


Angel Electric

by Alcyone



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcyone/pseuds/Alcyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gokudera inherited a weapon and a position—and a not-dream that tastes of failure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel Electric

**Author's Note:**

> Written for khrminibang. Beta'd by the magnificent smiles1777.

_To be and not want to be…it's the divisor,  
the battle that exhausts all waiting,  
to find, the soul already dying,  
that in the miserable body remains strength._  
-Julia de Burgos, "Canción amarga"

 _And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad,  
the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. _  
-Michael Andrews and Gary Jules, "Mad World"

* * *

  
_Angel Electric_   


  


* * *

  


_(It starts with a fall.)_

∞

There are hands on my waist, hands marking my hipbones, hands pressing languorously against my abdomen. Just hands. Large hands with long, thin fingers. Neatly curved nails dig half-moon craters into my skin. Oval prints blanch the already white skin, each a perfect match for those light and lazy and insistent fingertips. Just hands. Just warmth and wanting and questing hands mapping my sides, my abdomen, my waist, my hips. Hands that I reach for, but never grasp.

When the pain clears, when the disorientation fades, when my eyes focus, when I look up to find the other, there is the too painful glare of the sun and a cacophonous din of yells. And there is a boy with unruly brown hair and terrified features and an infant with a hat and an inscrutable face and a boy with large hands and dark hair and unfamiliar eyes.

∞

"Gokudera-kun? Gokudera-kun. Gokudera-kun!"

Hayato blinked. Tsuna's face swam into focus. His eyebrows were creeping together in worry.

"I agree, Tenth," Hayato said quickly. "You're right."

Tsuna's look descended into confusion. "That's good? But I was asking if you're okay."

"Oh." Hayato forced a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm perfect, Tenth!"

"You've seemed a little…out of it lately." Tsuna sank onto the bleachers next to him. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course, Tenth!" He jumped up, beaming at his boss. "You don't need to worry about me!"

Tsuna's smile was unconvinced, but he nodded. "All right, Gokudera-kun."

Hayato smiled back and reclaimed his seat. They remained silent, listening to the sounds of the school around them. Yells and laughter poured from the windows. On the track, students were finishing their laps. A few girls were giggling inside the pool. When the bell signaling the beginning of the next period rang, Tsuna stretched and stood.

"Are you coming?" he asked when Hayato remained seated.

"I'll be a while. I need to see Shamal." Hayato raised his bound arm. "I'll be right there."

"Okay." With a last glance behind him, Tsuna disappeared inside the school.

Hayato folded into himself. The hand he'd clenched to keep Tsuna from noticing its trembling hurt. The fingers were stiff and didn't want to uncurl. His eyes ached as he tried to bring the world around him into clear focus.

Lying down, he threw his good arm over his eyes. He tried to discern figures in the soft blackness. His mind drifted. Sleep tugged at him.

"No, no, stop."

Silence fell around him.

" _No_!"

Hayato startled awake. His heart was pounding at the base of his neck. His mouth was open in a silent 'no' and for the third time since the fight he had no idea if he had cried it aloud.

∞

Hayato stared at the book in front of him. English wasn't a subject that gave him difficulty. Nevertheless, it was the sixth time he read the question and he still didn't understand what it asked.

With a sharp sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes ached. Finally surrendering, he slammed shut the book and collapsed on the bed. Sleep came very easily to him. With how exhausted he was, it wasn't surprising.

 _A nap_ , he thought. Then he could work.

 _(Except nothing ever goes as it should.)_

Again those hands. Not dismembered. They were attached to something, something he couldn't see. Something that blurred before him every time he tried to focus on it. _(You shouldn't try to figure it out.)_ When he tried to extend his hands, he found he couldn't move. His limbs weren't restrained, but weighed down with a heavy lethargy. He could only stand and watch and feel.

Hayato knew he was dreaming. _(And yet you choose to remain in it. You favor the not real because it feels so much better.)_ These sort of lucid dreams had become more and more common. He was getting used to the feel of those phantom hands mapping the dips and bends of his body. They traced a line across his nipple, as if a scar was etched across the skin. They followed the lines of his torso before pressing insistently against his skin.

Closing his eyes, the sensations grew sharper. An open mouth panted against his hipbone. A tongue pressed damp points against the junction of his leg and groin.

"Gian…"

Hayato startled awake.

 _(How does it feel when your dreams call out the wrong name?)_

∞

"Is your arm still bothering you?" Yamamoto leaned forward in his desk. The bell had rung, but their English teacher hadn't arrived yet.

Hayato, sitting on the table of the desk, his feet resting on the seat, scoffed.

"As if a broken wrist could stop me."

"Still Gokudera-kun," Tsuna said worriedly, "you should take care of yourself."

"No, Tenth, really!" Hayato waved his good hand. "I'm fine! I'm in perfect shape! Your right-hand man will not be held back! I can do anything you ask of me, Tenth!"

Tsuna chuckled weakly. Yamamoto laughed outright.

"You're so enthusiastic, Gokudera." He smiled.

"You'd do well to be a little enthusiastic too." Hayato scowled. "You didn't react fast enough."

"Ah, sorry, sorry."

"Don't sorry me, baseball idiot. I can't cover for you all the time. When are you going to start acting like a guardian?"

"Oh, are we talking about the mafia game again?"

"You idiot…!"

"No, Gokudera-kun, put the dynamite away!"

"Why does Gokudera always bring fireworks to school?"

"Gokudera-kun, don't! Gokudera-kun! Gokudera-kun, _you have an arm in a sling_!"

∞

It didn't matter how well that baseball idiot could swing a sword. That irritating obliviousness was unacceptable in a Vongola Boss's Guardian. It was unacceptable in the _Tenth's_ Guardians.

 _(Yet you wish you had a little of it. You envy his ability to smile.)_

Yamamoto annoyed him just by breathing. Hayato didn't understand someone so carefree and who could remain so after all they had seen. It was almost as if the bad slid off him like water. Like rain. _(You envy it. You envy him.)_ Almost as if that rain washed it all away, every day, every hour, every minute, every second, and left him untouched, but for a little more strength. _(And you try to imagine the rain falling, falling on your skin, burning, burning away every one of your defenses.)_

Yamamoto was an idiot. A baseball idiot. He would never be any more.

 _(But you wonder and you wonder and you want and you want.)_

∞

"—thought of the day when our foe, in the hue of his slaughters, made Salem's high places his prey—"

The English teacher's voice was a dull buzz in the background. Hayato entertained himself scribbling small notes in G-script. He still wasn't sleeping. He would awake numerous times during the night in a nightmare's unbreakable hold. But the more he tried to remember his dreams, the more they slipped through his grasp. All he remembered was the terror. The choking, cloying, horrifying terror of watching and seeing and trying and being helpless.

"Gokudera, perhaps you might be so kind as to recite the next verse?" the teacher cut across his thoughts.

Hayato glared, but Meioh-sensei stood her ground. Off-handedly, he recited, "While sadly we gazed on the river which rolled on in freedom below, they demanded the song; but, oh never that triumph the stranger shall know. May this right hand be withered for ever, ere it string our high harp for the foe."

"Can you tell the class what it means?" she continued. The rest of the class had turned around to watch him. Yamamoto was blinking sleep from his eyes and Tsuna was watching him.

"The speaker is reinforcing his will. He will never accept the new, false ruler and will never bow to him. He would rather lose an arm than even play a harp in his honor."

Meioh-sensei smiled. "Yes, that is correct, Gokudera. Thank you."

"Tch." Hayato immediately turned his face down to what he had been doing. He started. Instead of G-script, he had drawn G-archery, an eye with an odd flame cutting across its length, a row of Greek symbols, an antique gun and four swords.

"Hey, that looks like my Asari Ugetsu," Yamamoto interrupted his musing.

Hayato nearly jumped out of his skin. "The fuck are you doing reading over my shoulder?"

Yamamoto shrugged. "What Gokudera draws is more interesting. You have a good hand. Could Gokudera draw a baseball game?"

"Pay attention!" Hayato hissed. He hunched over his paper in an attempt to keep the baseball freak from overlooking it. Yamamoto laughed. Grumbling, Hayato began crumpling the paper into a ball when he noticed another scribble in the corner. This one wasn't a drawing; it was a name. Written in Latin letters in a quick, packed hand.

Gian Carlo.

Something about the name seemed familiar. He'd heard this name before. A Vongola? No, he hadn't met anyone in Vongola with that name. One of his hits? He hardly ever learned their names. He didn't need to attach a name to a face and make the person real. Someone in his father's household? Definitely not.

He smoothed out the paper, tracing the letters. It wasn't his writing; this wasn't his hand. But there were similarities in the sharpness of the rises, the quick curves. This might have been his hand if he'd learned to write centuries ago. He slid the paper inside his shirt.

∞

 _(So many images are dancing in your head these days.)_

With his eyes open, he could see rolling Italian grasslands. He could see a mansion, the Vongola mansion, but it was different. Some structures were missing. Some of the towers were lower. There were fewer windows. The doors were a polished, handsome wood, not the reinforced shining metal he knew. In place of a marble fountain was a small circular garden. The amaranth was almost wild, twisting and dark and alive. _(It's a sign. But you've never been good at recognizing those in your life.)_

Even the air was different. He could smell soil and horses and smoke and grapes and summer. No smog, no cars.

He saw Tsuna, except he wasn't Tsuna. Older, taller, with rich yellow hair. A woman was sometimes with him with smooth olive skin and dark curls pinned away from her face. She was pregnant.

He saw Ryohei and Lambo, but they weren't Ryohei and Lambo either. Ryohei wore a priest's robe and a simple cross hung from a cord around his neck. Lambo was fair-haired and, instead of horns, he wore a crown on his head.

He thought he saw Hibari and Mukuro once. Instead of tonfa, Hibari threatened Mukuro with handcuffs. Mukuro—both of his eyes the same blue—just smiled. Tsuna-that-wasn't-Tsuna interfered.

 _(So many images.)_

Yamamoto was different too. He was the only one who stood out. He wore Japanese clothing while the others favored European styles. He wore a ridiculous hat that made him look even more like an idiot. Instead of bright amber, his eyes were dark. His smile was the same. His hand closed around Hayato's shoulder and those hands were familiar enough to ferment the blood coiling in his veins. He'd been seeing them for weeks, tracing and mapping and grazing his skin.

It was too easy to imagine this strange Yamamoto kneeling before him, a smile lingering about his mouth as he rested his damp cheek against Hayato's naked hip. It was too easy to feel his lips mouth the skin under his bellybutton, to feel his teeth nibble senseless patterns that made him tremble.

A name rose to his lips, gasped into the quiet air.

"Ugetsu."

And Yamamoto, Ugetsu, this man whoever he was, smiled and his eyes brightened with some emotion Hayato could not name. When he stood, it was Hayato who moved forward and kissed him. And yet it wasn't Hayato's name that was breathed.

"Gian Carlo…"

 _(Can you tell what is real?)_

∞

Doodling on his cast, Hayato tried to remember his dreams. He could only remember the general pictures; the details were always lost. No matter how he tried to hold onto them, they slipped through his hands like water. Something lurked just at the edge of his understanding, something that taunted him. It was driving him crazy. Enough to start slipping up. Meioh-sensei had held him back after class to show him his test. Instead of his name, he'd written Dragoni.

"I know this is yours because your hand is distinctive," she'd said. "You're also the only one with perfect scores. I don't understand the choice of name. Is this your nickname?"

"No," he had replied shortly. He had been staring at the handwriting.

"Next time, use your real name. All right?"

She hadn't been the only one. Even Ryohei had stopped yelling absurdities to ask if he was feeling "extremely okay".

So maybe Ryohei _hadn't_ stopped yelling absurdities.

"Gokudera-kun?"

"Huh?" Hayato looked up from his drawing. "I'm sorry, Tenth, what did you say?"

Tsuna laid his hand on Hayato's arm, just above the cast. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. "Something's bothering you, isn't it?" Behind him, Yamamoto raised his head from his homework. Reborn ignored the three, calmly sipping his coffee.

Hayato laughed even as he mentally swore. The last person he wanted to worry was Tsuna. "Why would you say that, Tenth?"

"You're so distracted lately. You look like you haven't slept well in a while. Did something happen?"

"No, Tenth, i-it's just my arm! Ha, ha! It's hard finding a comfortable position to sleep in. But the cast comes off in a week. You don't need to worry about me, Tenth!" He was lying to Tsuna. He couldn't believe he was lying to his boss. And judging from Tsuna's concerned face and the shrewd look in Yamamoto's eyes, he didn't deceive either one.

"That's good," Reborn interrupted. "An order came in from the Ninth. There's been a group amassing forces here. The Ninth believes they're the ones responsible for the attack on Tsuna that left Gokudera with the broken arm."

"Then let's go after them!" Hayato produced a fan of dynamite. "We'll smoke them out of their holes!"

"Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna raised his hands in a stop signal.

Yamamoto laughed. "Are we starting a new level on the virtual reality game?"

"Virtual reality…?" Hayato spluttered. He aimed for Yamamoto's head.

"That's your family, No-Good Tsuna," Reborn reminded him.

Tsuna slapped his palm to his forehead.

∞

The truth was Hayato was barely sleeping. What little sleep he could get was fitful and constantly interrupted. _(You're afraid of sleep—afraid of what your dreams will show you.)_ He never remembered the details. With some dreams, he had no image, no sound to recall. There was only the feeling. Of a pain that was beyond tears, of an electrifying and slow horror, of a failure too great to comprehend. In between images that left him desperate to know more were those dark voids of nothing but what he feared. _(How long will you last?)_

∞

Hayato opened his apartment door to Yamamoto's smiling face.

"Yo, Gokudera!" he said cheerfully.

Hayato closed the door.

Before he could walk away, insistent knocking rained on the door and didn't stop.

"What do you want?" He slammed the door open.

Yamamoto held up a bag like a peace offering. "I brought some sushi. Thought it might make you feel better."

Hayato would have snapped at him, but his stomach chose that moment to growl. Yamamoto's smile widened. Hayato's look darkened.

"Fine!" He sighed irritably. "Come in."

Yamamoto traipsed after Hayato, closing the door cheerfully behind him. He looked around curiously as Hayato settled on a stool in the kitchen.

"I've never seen Gokudera's apartment. It's nice."

Glancing at the Spartan décor, Hayato shrugged. "It has a roof."

"Dad packed a few things." Yamamoto began pulling out covered dishes. "There's fatty tuna, sea urchin, abalone…"

"Why are you here?" Hayato rubbed his forehead in an attempt to calm the headache brewing behind his eyes.

"Huh?" Yamamoto glanced up, a stupid look on his stupid face.

" _Why_ are you _here_?" His eyes throbbed.

"I wanted to bring you something." The idiot shrugged.

"Why?" The pain flowed and ebbed in waves that alternated between dull and sharp.

"You're my friend," Yamamoto replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Light hurt. The clinking of plates were grating on his ears. "Who said I was your friend?"

Movement from Yamamoto's edge of the table stilled. Then it resumed. "No one," he said cheerfully. "But you are."

His head was going to crack in half.

"Get out."

"But you haven't even tried—"

"Get out!" Hayato raised his head to yell, but the moment he opened his eyes the soft daylight raked across his cornea. His eyes felt like they were on fire. The pressure building inside his head grew. With a soundless moan, he bowed low, his forehead almost touching his knees.

Yamamoto jumped up. "Gokudera! Gokudera, are you okay?"

 _No, you fucking idiot, I am not okay,_ his thoughts screamed. Aloud, he gasped, "Don't come near me!"

He felt Yamamoto's fingers on his back, saw that large hand so disturbingly familiar.

"Ugetsu," Hayato breathed. "Gian Carlo!"

His head split.

∞

Senseless. Unordered. Scenes he didn't know, but remembered.

He was twenty-seven and…

He was twelve and he was moving. He screamed at his father, slammed doors, broke everything remotely breakable. He didn't tell Giotto, but his friend learned about it anyway. The night before Hayato was supposed to leave, he woke up to pebbles tossed at his window. Giotto was outside. Hiding with him among the flowering grapevines, they made a promise never to forget one another and to always look out for the other. They sealed it by nicking the base of their right thumbs and pressing them together, a blood oath they would never break.

He was eighteen and Giotto was trying to climb a cliff. It had all been Amaranta's brilliant idea. "No one listens to me!" she had wailed as she, Hayato and Ugetsu ran. "He never does what I say! I was being sarcastic! I didn't know he'd do it!" It took all three of them to pull Giotto over the edge. Amaranta stripped out of her dress, keeping only her undergarments. Hayato and Ugetsu used it as a makeshift rope to pull Giotto to safety. The moment he was on the ground, Amaranta slapped Giotto. Hayato observed Ugetsu, saw the sigh of relief his body breathed when Giotto was safe. Despite all the trouble, Giotto continued trying until he could scale the cliff wall. And Hayato had to admit that Ugetsu wasn't a villain.

He and Giotto were ten and bored out of their minds in a feast laid out in celebration of a man who had traveled to the Orient. The only thing of interest was a young boy who had returned with him. Hayato took one look at him and declared him an idiot. Giotto held out a hand to him and smiled. The boy didn't speak Italian and they didn't speak Japanese, but somehow they understood each other. When the boy left, he helped Giotto write letters to him, which they gave to Giotto's father to send to Japan.

He was twenty-seven and…

He was seventeen and there was an idiot with a stupid hat waving a sword around like a streamer. He had stopped sending letters to Ugetsu years before. It seemed Giotto hadn't. It was a matter of luck that Ugetsu found them just when they needed help. But Hayato thought it suspicious and refused to let him near Giotto alone. Ugetsu only laughed at his actions. His smile irritated Hayato into violence. But even after the yells and the warnings, he never stopped smiling.

He was fifteen and he had run away from home. With a stolen horse, he rode to the only place that could possibly accept him. He threw pebbles at Giotto's window (what he hoped was Giotto's window) for fifteen minutes, hoping Giotto hadn't forgotten him. The window opened suddenly and he accidentally clocked his old friend with a rock. Despite the bruise on his forehead, Giotto cried out in excitement. He didn't ask why Hayato had returned in the dead of night or why he was alone. He only asked if Hayato was hungry, tired and what the hell is that thing on your eye.

He was twenty-four and he'd had sex with Ugetsu for the first time. The other continued sleeping peacefully. Hayato clutched his head and tried to remember how much alcohol he'd imbibed the night before. Not enough, apparently. Not if he could not forget the scent of Ugetsu's skin or the warm weight of his limbs or the intoxicating way he cried out when Hayato scored his nails down his back during those last agonizing seconds. He fled the room before Ugetsu woke up.

He was twenty-seven and…

He was twenty-five and Amaranta was dead. A scarlet necklace wound across her slender neck. She was still alive when he first touched her; her eyes flitted to his. She tried to speak, but a gurgle of red choked her. A translucent bubble crowned with tiny red beads grew at the corner of her lips, burst. Ugetsu found him. Ugetsu helped him stand. Ugetsu found Enrique and told the priest to deliver her still unborn child. Ugetsu stood beside him as Hayato tried to find some way of telling Giotto that his daughter had been born and was small but healthy—but the woman he'd loved since childhood had died.

He was six and he tripped over a boy. They ran away from Hayato's governess and hid among the grapevines. Hayato told him his name, "Gian Carlo Dragoni!" and the boy beamed back, "Giotto Vongola!" The next day, Hayato threw a fit until his governess sent a letter to the Vongola family, asking whether Giotto could play. In answer, Giotto's mother brought her child over. Before she let him run off with Hayato, she cheerfully asked him to keep an eye on her son.

He was twenty-six and he backed Ugetsu against a wall. They were twenty-six and they were young and they were immortal. They should have been. Giotto's desolate look was burned into his eyes; Amaranta's blood remained in his hands. They made him realize how easily everything could fall apart, how easily everything could be lost. He could die tomorrow. Or Giotto. Or Enrique. Or Vito. Or Ugetsu. His movements were almost desperate as he tried to drown in the sensations. _Make me forget_ , he begged in a ragged kiss. "Gian Carlo…" Ugetsu sighed, eyes dark with some unrecognizable emotion, and Hayato clung to him.

He was twenty-seven and…

∞

 _(Some secrets are never meant to be divined. But you will try to anyway. And you will succeed. And you will hurt.)_

∞

"Gokudera! Gokudera!"

Hayato surfaced to someone calling his name. Yamamoto knelt beside him, half-holding him. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. His lips were slightly parted, breathing audible.

"What happened, Gokudera? What's happening?" He shook Hayato slightly. Hayato raised his hands and pushed him away. He fell to the floor and weakly tried to prop himself up.

"Reborn," he gasped. "I need Reborn-san."

"Don't try to stand by yourself!" Yamamoto's hands closed around his shoulder and arm. "You need help!"

"I don't _need_ anything from you." He tried to jerk away. Yamamoto looked too much like Ugetsu. Too much. Yamamoto's hand tightened around his arm.

"Stop trying to act so big!" he snapped. His smile was gone. "I don't know what's going on and I'm worried about you! Let me worry!"

Hayato grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He glared at the floor. When Yamamoto stooped and threw Hayato's unhurt arm around his shoulders, one of his arms wrapping around Hayato's lower back, Hayato made a conscious effort not to pull away.

Too much. He was too much like Ugetsu.

The last few steps to Tsuna's house, Hayato slid from Yamamoto's grasp. He let himself into Tsuna's house. Yamamoto followed, still uncharacteristically serious.

"Reborn-san!" he called. "Reborn-san, are you here?"

"Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna's head popped around the kitchen doorway.

"Ah, Tenth." Hayato forced a smile. "Do you know where Reborn-san is?"

"In here," came the infant voice from the kitchen.

Reborn was calmly eating lunch. Or actually, Reborn was calmly being fed lunch by Bianchi. Spotting her rose hair, Hayato immediately dove behind a wall before he could see her face.

"I need to ask you something," he called through the wall. He was tempted to slam his head against it. Why did Bianchi have to follow Reborn everywhere?

"Hayato?" he heard her say.

"Put your goggles on, Bianchi," Tsuna was saying.

"You okay, Gokudera?" Yamamoto raised his hand as if to set it on his shoulder, but thought better of it.

Hayato didn't understand the sudden hurt he felt.

Tsuna poked his head around the doorway. "You can come in, Gokudera-kun."

Reborn's plate was wiped clean except for a few crumbs left in a brown-red sauce. He turned when Hayato walked in, dark eyes taking in his appearance. Hayato could only guess how disarrayed he looked; he hadn't bothered to stop in front of a mirror before running out.

"What did you want to ask, Gokudera?"

 _I need to speak to you alone_ , he was about to say, but there was no point. Yamamoto knew. He couldn't keep a secret from Tsuna. And his sister would learn about it anyway. He drew out a cigarette and quickly lit it, taking a long drag. It did little to calm his nerves.

"I…" he began and stopped. How was he going to explain? That he was dreaming with the Vongola's first generation? That he sometimes believed he _was_ the first Guardian of Storm? Reborn would think he was crazy and unfit to remain by Tsuna's side.

"Sit down, Gokudera," Reborn interrupted his thoughts. "Go ahead."

In that infantile face, Hayato found a non-judgmental curiosity. Reborn was calmly expectant, which was how Hayato found himself sinking into the chair beside him and confessing what he'd experienced until then. The dreams, the names, the feelings, the fights, the deaths. The only things he kept to himself were the truth of Gian Carlo and Ugetsu's relationship and the dreams where he'd felt Ugetsu's hands. They were too personal.

When he finished, Tsuna stared open-mouthed. Yamamoto was leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of him. Bianchi's eyes had widened slightly, one hand half-covering her mouth.

"Hayato…" she said softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He scoffed. "Because you would have thought me insane."

Anger colored her expression. "I would never," she said sharply. "You're my brother, Hayato, and if something bothered you this much I wouldn't have disregarded it!"

"Bianchi. Gokudera." Reborn stopped them before an argument could begin. "Do you have the paper with the drawings?"

Hayato nodded. He reached into his pant's pocket and drew out the paper, ragged from the times he had examined it and folded it again. He handed it to Reborn who took it carefully. Bianchi peered over his shoulder and even Tsuna leaned forward in interest. Reborn folded it again and laid it on the table.

"There are a few things I need to do," he announced. "Wait here for me."

"Of course, Reborn-san," Hayato said quickly as the hit man jumped from the chair and walked out of the kitchen.

"Reborn, what—" Tsuna began.

"You're the boss, Tsuna," Reborn interrupted. "You should be more aware of your guardians."

Tsuna stepped back as if struck.

"No, no, that was my fault!" Hayato stood so quickly he upended the chair. "I didn't want the Tenth to worry so I didn't tell him! I'm sorry, Tenth!"

Tsuna shook his head. "No, I-I knew something was worrying you. I should have asked you about it sooner, Gokudera-kun."

"Tenth…"

"And you know you can always talk to me. We're friends, right?" Tsuna smiled, but there was a strained quality to it.

Hayato was almost sobbing. "Best of friends!" he declared so loudly Tsuna jumped and Yamamoto laughed.

"Gokudera is so straightforward."

Hayato glowered at him for interrupting the moment.

∞

They waited for Reborn. They talked about safe, mindless subjects. Yamamoto described the many baseball practices' screw-ups he'd witnessed with numerous hand gestures and appropriate poses. Tsuna laughed and Hayato refused to be amused. Bianchi smiled, but was mostly silent, keeping close to Hayato. More than once he caught her worried look before she schooled her expression.

 _(They think you're important. And you know them to be important to you.)_

Ugetsu's dark eyes came to mind.

 _(How long until you lose them too?)_

∞

When Reborn returned to the kitchen, he had a few sheets of paper under his arm. He hopped onto the table and turned to Hayato.

"What can you tell me about this?" he asked and dropped an image on the wood surface. Tsuna, Yamamoto and Bianchi grouped behind Hayato, peering over his shoulders.

He laughed. "I remember this." He picked up the photograph of an oil painting. It was a portrait of the Guardians. "Vito would not sit still, the little bastard. Kept saying he should be in front. And we were supposed to be serious and Ugetsu could not keep from smiling. I had to sucker-punch the idiot and then he had the gall to laugh. And before it was dry that useless priest started waving his hands around, saying I needed to seek God more. Hit the corner and smudged the paint." He stopped when he realized everyone was staring at him. "What?"

"You said 'I', Gokudera-kun. Like you were there," said Tsuna. "You…didn't notice?"

Hayato shook his head.

"It's also interesting that you would know about the corner." Reborn drew the attention toward him. "That area isn't visible in this image. And in the portrait itself, its frame was specially designed to hide it. Very few know about it."

"How do you know, kid?" asked Yamamoto.

"I've seen the painting," Reborn replied. "And the Ninth told me. He was also the one who faxed me these images. They're important paintings for the Vongola family and, unless you've been invited into the Boss's private study, normally you would not see them.

"What about this one?"

Hayato pulled the picture toward him slowly. "Amaranta," he said, looking at the woman sitting next to a standing Giotto. "Damn annoying woman. Used to chase us around when we were kids. But she was a good wife. She really loved Giotto and her children. Alessandro and Edoardo." He pointed to each of the two boys as he said their names. "Elena's missing. She was born…after."

"Hmm." Reborn dropped the final image. "This one is hung in the hall so you may have—"

"No, it's not. This is hung in the library. It's his parents." Hayato saw the serious countenance of Giotto's father and remembered the laughing man who'd stayed up with them once, hunting for nonexistent monsters in Giotto's room. He traced the line of his wife's face and could see her pause when she saw him the morning after he ran away to Giotto's house.

 _"I'll tell the cook to prepare another plate. And while it may look good on you, please keep my son from getting himself a tattoo, will you?"_

"It seems like you _are_ channeling Gian Carlo," Reborn stated.

"How?" Tsuna and Bianchi chorused. Yamamoto was silent. Hayato fiddled with the pictures.

Reborn shrugged. "It could be the ring. He seems to be connecting for some reason with the first generation's Storm Guardian. It could be that they're similar enough for past and present to resonate. Or maybe Gian Carlo had some unfinished business."

"So what should we do?" Bianchi began. "If it's dangerous…"

"Unfortunately, we don't know enough." Again, Reborn's eyes fell on him and Hayato felt like he was being X-rayed. "We'll have to keep an eye on Gokudera. From now on, try to remember what you were doing or what was around you when you experience one of these…dreams. There could be a trigger you're as of yet unaware about. I'll try to research this phenomenon. Perhaps a past guardian also experienced something similar and left records of it. If we're lucky, it'll resolve itself on its own."

Meeting Reborn's solemn gaze again, Hayato suspected he didn't believe the matter would go away any more than he did.

∞

 _(You were right. Things are never so easily fixed.)_

Rather than fade, the images, memories, whatever they were multiplied. Like a dam had crumbled, they were no longer limited to times his mind drifted or when he was asleep. When he opened his eyes, he saw Namimori and Sicily intertwined so tightly it was impossible to tell where Japan ended and Italy began. He would walk down a busy street and teenagers in shorts with skateboards in hand ran past women chattering together, their long gowns brushing the floor. He would step onto cobblestone streets lined with concrete buildings. Cars would drive alongside horses and carriages. Italian and Japanese would suffuse the air. He would confuse people. He barely checked himself more than once from calling Tsuna "Giotto." Other times, he had to focus to remember which was his own name.

He swallowed his doubts and his anxiety. Tsuna was already worried enough. Not one day passed without his inquiring into Hayato's health, whether he'd been sleeping well, eating enough. He didn't want Tsuna to worry about him. He didn't want to be a burden.

Yamamoto had all the subtlety of a blunt hammer. Hayato soon took to avoiding him, but it wasn't just annoyance at his transparent looks and questions.

He didn't want to risk confusing Yamamoto for Ugetsu.

∞

When Hayato trooped down from Tsuna's room where he was helping Tsuna and Yamamoto with their homework, Bianchi, Kyoko and Haru were setting out pastries and snacks on the kitchen table. Next to them, Amaranta was pouring wine from a bottle into six glasses.

"This is the vintage you like so don't give me that look," she said when he stepped into the kitchen.

"That's not what I'm worried about." Hayato rolled his eyes. "Why are there six glasses?"

"Enrique is coming."

"He's a priest. He shouldn't drink wine." He threw himself into a chair and picked up one of the filled glasses. He swilled the purple-red liquid inside.

"But according to him, he needs a vice to understand sinners." Amaranta bit her lower lip to stifle a snicker. Hayato scoffed.

"Good-for-nothing, corrupt priest," he muttered under his breath. She heard and laughed.

"Hayato?" He glanced over his now empty hand to Bianchi's worried face. Kyoko and Haru had identical questioning looks.

"Was that Italian, Gokudera-san?" Kyoko asked him.

"Hahi. It sounds so mysterious," Haru added.

Bianchi frowned. "Who were you talking to?" she asked in Italian.

"No one," he answered and he pointedly refused to look at the now-indignant Amaranta.

∞

 _(Didn't she die?)_

∞

"I really don't get this," Tsuna whined.

They were in English class again and Meioh-sensei was still discussing the Romantic Movement. She had allowed the students to form groups of two to four members. They were supposed to write a poem in the style of Byron, but most of the groups were staring at their notebooks blankly.

"This is such a pointless exercise." If Vito slid any further down, he was going to fall right out of his chair.

"All that is needed is inspiration. And there is no greater inspiration than God!" Enrique's eyes burned. "We can take this as an opportunity to praise Our Lord for all He has done!"

Vito cracked an eye open. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but sighed instead. "Too troublesome," he muttered.

"We can thank Him for our innumerable blessings!"

"Why am I here again?"

"And sing about our Lord's boundless love for His children!"

"Is the food laid out yet?"

The pencil in Hayato's hand cracked in half. "Will you two shut up?!"

Vito and Enrique stared at him. Tsuna and Yamamoto startled. The two boys in the group beside them jumped.

"Something wrong, Gokudera?" Meioh-sensei called.

"No, Meioh-sensei." Hayato scowled into his desk.

Enrique clapped his shoulder. "My friend…you need to pray."

"Where's my cocktail?" Vito was barely visible over the edge of the desk.

Hayato barely reigned in the urge to brain them both with the dictionary.

∞

 _(Are these memories or are they really there?)_

∞

"I hate treating men," Shamal muttered under his breath. Hayato rolled his eyes.

"Just hurry up."

Shamal frowned at him. "Talk back to me again and you can take it off yourself."

Hayato had a sharp remark on the tip of his tongue, but opted for sighing irritably. Shamal's motions were just as annoyed as he finished cutting the cast away.

"There," he said. Hayato flexed his right hand experimentally. The skin was paler than normal and his hand looked almost frail.

"Can you move it?" Shamal asked sharply.

Hayato flipped him off.

Shamal rolled his eyes. "Get out of here. And don't make this a habit."

"Tch. Trust me, I won't." Hayato grabbed his bag and walked out of Shamal's office.

"Tell that pretty young lady outside to come in," Shamal yelled after him. Hayato slammed the door shut.

"How's your arm, Gokudera?"

He jumped. "Reborn-san! Ah, it's perfect! Better than ever!" He flexed his arm.

Reborn smiled. "Good. Because I have a task for you."

"What is it?"

"We have a lead on the group who attacked you," Reborn began. "Tsuna and Yamamoto are waiting outside for you. I want you three to sneak into their hideout and try to find any sort of information regarding their goals."

"What about you, Reborn-san?" Hayato walked a little faster. He felt an awkward twinge just behind his eyes, like the beginning of a migraine.

"I'll be your lookout." Reborn tossed him an earpiece. "I'll remain outside and monitor the situation from there."

"And turf-head and Hibari? Shouldn't they be helping the Tenth too?" He forced himself to ignore the pain.

"I've already ensured they'll be in the area to provide assistance if necessary. Chrome has been contacted too. The warehouse is near Kokuyo land. Are you all right, Gokudera?"

"What? Yes! I'm perfect!" Hayato stood a little straighter.

"If you want to support Tsuna, you need to be aware of your own limitations," Reborn stated. "If your health will endanger this mission, you need to stand down. It's not dishonorable; it's what's correct."

Hayato shook his head quickly. "No, I know my body, Reborn-san! I can do this! I will not let you or the Tenth down!"

"Hmph." Reborn lowered his head so the brim of his fedora hid his eyes.

∞

They traveled to the warehouse. Just as Reborn had said, it was practically in Kokuyo land. The hit man left them at the door and vanished. They soon heard his voice through their earpieces. Hayato used his Storm flames to degenerate the locks and Yamamoto quickly silenced any alarms with his Rain flames. Tsuna just shook his head.

"Almost too easy now," he whispered.

 _(Give it time. Such puerile thoughts flee with the moribund light.)_

Hayato was thankful for and detested the ease. He could feel a dull pounding brewing, growing so terribly _slow_. Despite its sluggish build-up, he recognized it. He had felt this same headache once before. And it was followed by images he never wanted and wished he could forget.

Accidentally, he discovered that pressing close to Tsuna helped it fade to an annoying, but manageable twinge. Brushing Yamamoto brought it forcefully to life. He tried to be subtle as he shifted farther from the baseball idiot, but Yamamoto's upset look warned him he wasn't successful.

It was when the pain was beginning to blind him no matter how close he remained to Tsuna or how far he drew away from Yamamoto that Reborn's warning came through. A group was approaching. Just as Reborn finished talking, they found a stash of primitive box weapons inside a storeroom. The image warred with a very similar image, this one consisting of primitive bombs. Giotto and Tsuna and Ugetsu and Yamamoto flickered before his vision. A name floated to the surface of his memory, as unknown as it was familiar.

Kronos.

Once they relayed the information quickly, they heeded Reborn's warning and fled for the door. The pain, gone for those brief seconds he had seen Giotto and Ugetsu, had returned. Again, light was beginning to hurt him. The sound of their steps, of their _breathing_ was tormenting. He continued fishing for a gun that wasn't on his hip. He stumbled.

"Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna grabbed his arm.

" _What are you waiting for? Get out._ " Reborn's voice ordered through the earpieces.

"We can't, Reborn, we—"

"Trouble, Vongola?" Mukuro leaned against the wall, watching them out of amused eyes.

"Mukuro-san!" Tsuna exclaimed. Gritting his teeth, Hayato pushed past Tsuna, shielding him with his body. Every time he blinked, the color of Mukuro's right eye changed. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Mukuro laughed.

"Are you sure you have time for that, Storm Guardian? There are enemies coming. Now's not the time for dreaming."

Hayato's stance grew more defensive.

"How do you know about that? You—Yamamoto!" He glared at the boy who suddenly had a restraining hand on his shoulder. His eyes were watering from the agony.

"We can talk about this outside. Mukuro-san is right. We should leave before we're found."

Hayato resisted long enough to escape and throw a nasty glare at Mukuro who only smiled before vanishing. Chrome swayed slightly and Yamamoto caught her before she collapsed. Hayato bid a hasty goodbye to Tsuna and separated from them. _(You didn't even reach your apartment. Does it really hurt that badly?)_ In a secluded area overgrown with vegetation, he sank against a tree, head cushioned on his knees, and bit back a scream until he tasted iron flood his mouth.

∞

"Hi, Tsuna-san!"

Hayato snorted into his lunch. "There goes my appetite."

Yamamoto laughed.

"Haru packed you a bento!" The energetic girl produced the bento box in question with a flourish. Tsuna smiled nervously.

"Haru, you didn't have to."

"Hahi. But I had to. Haru will be your wife!"

"H-Haru!"

"Che. Stop bothering the Tenth, you stupid woman."

"Hahi! Who are you calling stupid?"

"You, stupid."

"Hahi!"

"Maa, Gokudera, you don't have to be mean."

"Who asked you, baseball idiot?"

"Guys, come on, don't fight," Tsuna tried to mediate. Abruptly, he fell forward, face hitting the floor.

"Tsuna's right for once," Reborn quipped from his position on the back of Tsuna's head. He was dressed like a red thermos. "Haru, I think Lambo tried sneaking into the school."

"Hahi. Haru will get him. Lambo-chan!" she called loudly as she ran. The roof's door slammed shut behind her.

"And now that we're alone." Reborn hopped off Tsuna's head. Tsuna righted himself immediately, rubbing the abused spot.

"Reborn! Would you stop— ?"

"Let's discuss what we know about our enemy so far."

At Reborn's words, Hayato and Yamamoto straightened. Tsuna groaned. Reborn kicked his knee.

Over Tsuna's yelps, the hit man continued, "You faced them once. What do you remember?"

"There were two men and one woman," Hayato immediately responded. He rattled off the details as if memorized from a textbook. "The first man had red hair, no other distinguishing marks. The second had dark skin and a scar just under his hairline. The woman seemed to be Moroccan. They were operating under orders. I could hear the woman talking to someone. Said something about a failed illusion."

"The red-haired man was the one that broke Gokudera's arm," Yamamoto added. Hayato scowled.

"The sun blinded me. I'll beat him next time."

"What else?" prompted Reborn.

"They have a warehouse near Kokuyo?" Tsuna was inching away from Reborn.

 _Now's not the time for dreaming._

"How did that bastard know?"

"Who knows what, Gokudera?" asked Yamamoto. Hayato started. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud.

"No, no, it's nothing!" He tried to wave it off.

"You're wondering how Mukuro knew about your odd fits," Reborn guessed correctly. "It's a good question. Has anyone spoken to Mukuro or Chrome about it?"

Three shaking heads answered him.

"I wonder how he knew. Perhaps your condition is the result of an illusion and he sensed it?"

Hayato was silent.

"Gokudera, are you okay?" Worry lined Yamamoto's question.

"I'm fine!" snapped Hayato.

"Oh, stop being so stubborn," Ugetsu interrupted. He glared at Hayato. "It's obvious you're far from fine. We're worried about you."

Hayato looked away.

∞

 _(You were tempted to respond. And you really shouldn't talk to the dead, you know. Others might think you're crazy.)_

∞

They were going to return to the warehouse the following day. Hayato refused to run away like he'd done last time. He'd prove himself as the Tenth's right-hand man.

He declared this loudly. Tsuna held up his hands as if to ward off a blow.

"Really, Gokudera-kun. You don't have to prove anything. We're fine like we are."

"No! My current state is unacceptable, Tenth! But don't worry! I will not fail you!"

Hayato missed the slight twitching of Tsuna's left eye.

"Ah, la, la. Who dares come to Lambo-san's house?"

Lollipop in hand, Lambo stood on the sidewalk of Tsuna's house.

"Get back inside, stupid cow. Stop annoying the Tenth," Hayato growled.

"The stupid one is the one that calls other people stupid." Lambo shot him a six-year-old version of a smirk. Hayato brought his fist down on the top of Lambo's head. The child dropped his lollipop and shrieked. Before Hayato could react, Lambo had jumped him, tiny fists crackling with green electricity.

"Get him off me!"

"Lambo-san is going to kill you!"

"Lambo, get off of Gokudera-kun!"

"Lambo-san's lollipop! Stupidera!"

"You stupid cow!"

Finally, Tsuna pried the kicking and screaming child off of Hayato and held him to his chest. Lambo squirmed.

"Lambo-san will rule the world!" the little boy wailed, arms flailing. "And Lambo-san will make Stupidera his slave and make him buy Lambo-san all the lollipops Lambo-san wants!"

"Lambo! Don't say things like that!" Tsuna scolded him.

Hayato wondered if the stupid cow would make a good meal for Uri. But the stupid cow would probably just make his cat ill.

∞

 _(You didn't even blink when his horns were replaced by a crown.)_

∞

"Go."

"Do we really have to?"

"You're the boss, Tsuna."

"And I don't want to be!"

"Don't worry, Tenth! I'll be right behind you!"

"Hey, look, the door's open!"

"W-wait, Yamamoto!"

"You're going to let your subordinate go ahead alone? What kind of no-good boss are you?"

"Reborn! I told you I don't want to be—AH!"

"Tenth!"

Tsuna broke the short fall with his face. Hayato jumped after him. Reborn, foot still extended, shook his head.

"You're supposed to land on your feet, Tsuna."

Tsuna jerked upright. He clutched his nose. "And you're supposed to—WAH!"

Reborn played with another pebble. "One, don't talk back to me. Two, be quiet. We're in enemy territory. And three, shouldn't you be going after Yamamoto?"

"Ah, Yamamoto!" Tsuna jumped to his feet. Hayato slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Worrying the Tenth again. Just wait until I get my hands on that baseball freak…"

Reborn jumping to Tsuna's shoulder, they ran after their missing friend. Before they could wander too far, Yamamoto's head poked out of a vent on the ceiling.

"Yo!"

"Hie!" Tsuna nearly clawed up the opposite wall. Reborn smacked him.

"Don't be so undignified."

"What the hell are you doing, baseball freak?" Hayato scowled at Yamamoto's grin.

"Sneaking through the vents. It's fun. It feels like being in a movie."

"Did you see anything in other rooms, Yamamoto?" asked Reborn. "Computers, folders, file cabinets?"

"Yep. In that room." Yamamoto bent around the edge of the vent to point at a door further down the hall. Hayato stalked toward it. There was no door handle, just a lock.

"I can degenerate it," he said.

"No, we don't want to leave any sign we were here. Yamamoto." Reborn craned his neck to look at the idiot still hanging out of the vent. "Can you get inside the room and open the door?"

"Sure, kid!" With a wide grin, Yamamoto disappeared inside the vents. Hayato's eye twitched with every bang and scuffle that resonated through the metal. Tsuna laughed nervously. Reborn simply walked to the door and waited patiently in front of it. There was a click and the door swung open.

"There you go!" Yamamoto said happily.

"You need to learn to be quiet, idiot."

"Gokudera, don't be like that!"

"Hey, come on, don't argue." Tsuna stepped between them.

"Hmm." The three boys looked up to where Reborn had settled himself in front of the computer. The screen projected a white box, asking for a password. "Any ideas?" Reborn glanced over his shoulder. Tsuna and Yamamoto shook their heads. Hayato's eyes began watering. The too common headache began. Which was why he felt so certain when he said, "Kronos, Reborn-san. Try Kronos."

Reborn's eyes narrowed slightly before he nodded. He typed in the word and the box faded, replaced with a window displaying a menu.

"What is that, Reborn?" asked Tsuna. Reborn clicked one of the entries. A spreadsheet opened.

"Imports," Reborn answered. Returning to the menu, he clicked the second entry. Diagrams opened, rings, bullets, explosives, even what looked like a box weapon. The third entry revealed a calendar.

"It's empty," Yamamoto observed.

Hayato winced. "Check the next month."

Tsuna laid his hand on Hayato's elbow. "Are you in pain again?"

Hayato shook his head. "No. No, Tenth. I'm fine."

Tsuna bit his lower lip. "Gokudera-kun…"

"You were right, Gokudera," Reborn interrupted. The month was equally unmarked except for the second to last week. The nineteenth and twenty-second days were highlighted in red. "A shipment expected the nineteenth. The twenty-second is otherwise unmarked."

Hayato barely kept from staggering. This was much worse than before. He could feel white-hot pokers stabbing into his head. The pain was simultaneously sharp and dull.

A door outside opened and closed. The sound of voices could gradually be discerned.

Reborn logged off the computer. "Into the vents."

Yamamoto raised Reborn to the opening. He hopped in after the hit man and helped pull up Tsuna. Hayato scrambled in last, grabbing the vent's cover. Using Storm Flames, he degenerated the edges enough to hold the cover in place.

Two women entered the room with pink-colored hair and black masks hiding their eyes.

"Cervello!" Tsuna gasped. Reborn kneed him in the stomach.

The pain receded. The discomfort faded. And all that was left was the hatred, the pure, unadulterated hatred snaking into Hayato's veins.

∞

Hayato could barely remember how they got out. His attention was fixated on those two women and the almost suffocating yearning to shoot them both. _(You don't know why, but you do not care.)_ Somehow, Yamamoto and Tsuna dragged him out of the vents. Reborn had gone ahead and set up a distraction elsewhere to allow them to escape. _(You want to make them hurt for something they didn't do to you.)_ Even as he was pulled back, his thoughts were lost in different scenarios that had but one thing in common. _(You want them dead for something they haven't done to you yet.)_ And when they were safely away and Tsuna turned to him with a question on his lips, Hayato had no way of answering.

∞

"I think I might know a way to help you." Reborn's statement was met with equal parts surprise and pleasure.

Tsuna sighed in relief. "Did you hear that, Gokudera-kun?"

Yamamoto threw his arm around Hayato's shoulders with a laugh. Hayato flinched. Only Yamamoto and Reborn noticed. The Rain Guardian's hand fell away slowly and Reborn narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You're not going to like it, however," he continued.

Tsuna glanced from Reborn to Hayato and back. "What do you mean, Reborn?"

"Tsuna, step outside. Yamamoto too."

Immediately, Tsuna and Yamamoto began arguing.

"Reborn! He's my friend, I want to—"

"That's not fair, kid. We should—"

"This concerns Gokudera alone," Reborn answered sharply. "If he wishes to tell you after, that's his decision. But this is a personal matter so I would like for you two to leave." While the wording made it seem like a wish, the tone left no doubt that it was an order.

Hayato beamed at Tsuna. "Don't worry, Tenth! It's probably nothing that bad." He had a suspicion regarding what Reborn would say and he didn't want Tsuna or Yamamoto hearing it. Especially not Yamamoto.

"We'll be right outside," Tsuna said. Yamamoto followed him. At the threshold, he looked back and grinned.

"After this is all over, we'll go to a ball game to celebrate!"

Hayato immediately made a face. "Who would want to sit through a game of baseball, dumbass?"

Yamamoto laughed. When the door closed behind him, Hayato felt an irrational need to call him back.

"Now then, Gokudera," Reborn hopped onto the desk and settled down, "from what I've observed, you have two triggers: sleep and Yamamoto."

Hayato nodded, holding his head in his hands.

"But I think it's not sleep what is setting you off. It's what sleep can mean."

"What do you mean?" Hayato raised his head. He frowned in confusion at Reborn.

"Think, Gokudera," Reborn chastised. "In literature, what does sleep symbolize?"

 _The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to weep; nor need I to repine that all those charms have pass'd away, I might have watch'd through long decay._

"Death," he answered dully.

"Precisely." Reborn nodded. "During that fight, you fell and struck your head. You were out cold for some time. After that, the dreams came only when you slept or were about to. Sometimes the mind believes the body is dying and forces it to react."

"Hypnic myoclonia." Hayato remembered the term from an old textbook.

"Hm. The same pattern is repeated in fights with the risk of danger. And Yamamoto unknowingly acting as a catalyst."

"Useless baseball freak," Hayato muttered under his breath. Reborn smiled slightly.

"I wonder why that is," he mused. "Giotto and his Guardians formed the most important generation in Vongola's history. Our founders, after all. Yet that generation is also the one we know the least about.

"After the death of Giotto's wife, facts grow sketchy. We know they faced several dangerous adversaries. We know all the Guardians were enlisted in the battles, including the cowardly first Lightning Guardian and the first Sun Guardian who'd vowed to never fight again. At some point, the first Mist Guardian betrayed Giotto. Once the war ended, Giotto only remained in Italy long enough to finish raising his children. It was then he made the trip to Japan. Surprisingly, the man who'd sworn to follow Giotto wherever he would go didn't accompany him."

"Gian Carlo?" Hayato's eyes widened slightly.

"We know about Gian Carlo until his twenty-seventh birthday. After that, there is nothing to be found on him. Moreover, we know nothing about the first Rain Guardian after that time either. There's little concrete information about the nature of their relationship, although there are rumors."

"D-Did they die?" Hayato asked. He ignored the subtle question in Reborn's last statement.

The hit man shrugged. "We don't know. But whatever happened after they turned twenty-seven was important enough for it to affect you now."

"But I don't know what it could be." Hayato shook his head. "I haven't seen anything after they're twenty-six."

"Which brings us back to the way to help you." Reborn cleared his throat. "I'm proposing a way to force your mind to accept those memories. Once we know what's hidden, we can find a way to deal with it."

"All right." Hayato straightened. "How do we do it?"

"It's simple." Reborn focused his dark eyes on Hayato. "Yamamoto has to kill you."

∞

It was very simple, in fact. Both triggers at once. The threat of death provided by Yamamoto. With a bullet, the edge of a blade, anything that could kill him—for a short while.

"You need to _want_ to know," Reborn had stated calmly. "Not knowing needs to be a regret if you die. Otherwise, you really will die."

 _(But if it were so simple, you would have shot yourself by now.)_

It was very simple really, he understood as he closed his apartment door and slumped against it. But there was something even simpler. He didn't really _want_ to know. He wanted the dreams gone. He wanted the memories to disappear. And he didn't want to learn any more. _(What you need and what you want aren't always synonymous.)_ Whatever happened during the Vongola family's conception, he had never needed to know and he didn't want to. As the days passed, the phrase became a motto, then a lifeline. I don't want to know. I don't want to know.

 _(You will never admit to anyone, much less yourself, how very, very frightened you are.)_

∞

"Chrome! Chrome, where are you?" Hayato avoided a fallen beam on the floor and continued searching for the elusive girl. "Chrome!"

"Go-Gokudera-san?" Clutching her trident like a safety blanket to her chest, she stood at the top of a set of stairs.

"There you are!" Hayato clambered up the steps to where she was. She took a step back. "I want to talk to Mukuro."

"Mu-Mukuro-sama?" If she hadn't been surprised before, she was now.

"Yes. Mukuro." Distaste dripped off his voice.

"Mukuro-sama is busy."

There was a pause.

"He's in prison. How is he busy?"

"I-I don't know. But I know he's busy right now."

"Well, bring him out."

Chrome's visible eye widened. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" Hayato snapped. "I came all the way over here because I have something to ask him so you better bring him out!"

Her knuckles were white. The trident was trembling from the force of her grip. "I can't, Gokudera-san."

" _Get him!_ "

"Who's yelling? Huh?" Ken scowled at Hayato. Chikusa was right behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to ask Mukuro a question and, depending on his answer, will be the type of bomb I shoot him with."

"Who do you think you are?" Ken's voice rose. "You're not threatening Mukuro-sama!"

"This is our land," Chikusa added. "I suggest you leave."

"Like hell! I'm not leaving until I see the bastard!"

"Don't insult Mukuro-sama!"

"Or what? You'll growl at me, you overgrown monkey?"

"I'll show you monkey! Kong channel!"

"Double bomb!"

"You're both too loud." Mukuro's voice stopped the fight before it began.

"Mukuro-sama. We'll escort him out," said Chikusa.

"No. I think I know what the Vongola Storm wants to ask me." Mukuro smiled. "Leave us."

"But Mukuro-sama!" Ken argued.

"I said leave." There was a subtle inflection on the order that stood the hairs on Hayato's arms on end. Ken and Chikusa glanced at each other before doing as he said.

"I've got an eye on you!" Ken shouted at Hayato before disappearing.

"I apologize for their behavior. We don't get many visitors. Especially not the self-titled Vongola right-hand man." There was a mocking twist to Mukuro's lips. "What can I do for you?"

"You know damn well." Hayato controlled the urge to set Uri on Mukuro. "I want you to stop whatever you're doing to me."

"What _I'm_ doing?" Mukuro laughed and Hayato wanted to shove a rocket bomb into his mouth. "I'm not doing anything to you. You should take it up with _G_."

Mukuro's use of the nickname—it was Giotto's nickname for him and Giotto's alone—infuriated him.

"Now there's a look I hadn't seen on you before." Mukuro stepped toward him. Hayato raised a stick of dynamite. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on your Rain Guardian? Or…"

Hayato felt his heart rate jump. The building around him flickered, a cloudy night sky stretching above them.

Santiago smiled. "Is he an acceptable sacrifice?"

Hayato yelled. Before he could land a strike on Mukuro, the other seized his arm and twisted it behind his back.

"I'm not your enemy. This time."

"Then how the fuck do you know so much?" Hayato could feel Uri's restlessness barely checked by the ring. One flicker of Storm Flames and Mukuro would become the cat's scratching post.

"Did you think you're the only one connecting to his predecessor? Santiago has been active long before Gian Carlo ever decided to turn you into his guinea pig."

"Is he planning on slitting someone else's throat?" Hayato hissed.

"No. She was a special case. He much prefers stabs to the back."

Brilliant red Storm Flames roared to his hand. Uri jumped Mukuro. He smirked, features shimmering. Chrome fell to her knees. Hayato stopped Uri's attack so close, Chrome's bangs fluttered in the breeze. She didn't speak, simply watched him, wide-eyed.

He turned on his heel and left.

∞

When he came to, Hayato leaned against the steps of a slide. Under the unrelenting rain, the playground appeared burnished in liquid silver. His clothes stuck to his thin figure. His breath fogged over every time he exhaled.

He had been in Italy. There had been a fight. It had been almost uncomfortably humid. Giotto was still too pale, too thin, but he stood straight and remained firmly in command. Hayato and Ugetsu had hovered close, striking down any who came too close. He thought he remembered the Cervello's pink hair peeking out from under a hood. But even as he thought about it, most of the details drew away. He couldn't remember the faces of their assailants. Giotto's features blurred. He couldn't recall the weight of the gun in his hand. But he could evoke the warmth of Ugetsu's skin when the other's arm brushed his and he had no problem bringing to mind the slow curl of Ugetsu's constant smile. A bubble of warmth spread, assailed by a dark hatred. Ugetsu had smiled for him, but he hadn't. He had smiled for _Gian Carlo_ , not Hayato.

An almost hysterical chuckle escaped him. He was jealous of a dead man. A _dead_ man. A centuries old dead man.

He stumbled away from the slide, a hand half-covering his mouth. Something warm burned down his cheeks as his lungs continued to choke on an odd laughter. His head was killing him. And suddenly there was nothing funny anymore. He bent over, arms wrapped around his stomach, ragged gasps raking his throat. It was freezing and he was drenched and the pressure in his head was blinding and he couldn't remember his own name.

∞

 _(areyougoinginsane?)_

∞

"Gokudera?" Holding plastic shopping bags in one hand and an umbrella over his head with the other, Yamamoto peered at him through the silver rain. His lips were lightly parted, an almost indiscernible frown curling them. "Are you okay?"

And Hayato collapsed.

"Gokudera!" He saw the bag hit the floor, cans and boxes sprawling out. Large hands were suddenly at his shoulders. One hand dropped and curled around his arm, helping him up. Something shielded him from the unrelenting rain. He leaned against Yamamoto, hoping the other's body heat could chase away his ghosts.

"I don't know anymore," he whispered to Yamamoto's abdomen. The other boy's fingers on Hayato's hair stilled.

"Don't know what?"

"I don't know what's real anymore."

The umbrella dropped beside them. He was suddenly wrenched up, Yamamoto shaking him.

"Yes, you do!" He'd only heard Yamamoto so angry once before. When he refused to cooperate with him when fighting against Gamma. "Look at me! Gokudera, look at me! This is real! I'm real! Tsuna's real!"

Hayato laughed hollowly. "So is Sicily. So is Ugetsu. So is Giotto."

Yamamoto seemed to have forgotten the rain as he glared at Hayato. "They're in the past! They're dead! They're not real!"

"They're damned real!" Hayato pushed away. "You can't tell me they aren't real! I _know_ Giotto! I've known him since childhood! He's my best friend! He's the one I went to when I ran away from home! He's the one his mother begged me to protect before she was killed! He's the one I swore to follow when he decided to hunt down his parents' killers because he was my brother and I would have done anything for him! And all the rest…!

"I had to dive into a river to find Vito's crown before his guards blamed Giotto and me! I was at the match when Enrique killed a man! Alaude threw Giotto and me into prison for a day when we were trying to find information on the disappearances! I would have killed that creepy motherfucker Santiago when he was sniffing around too close to Giotto! I found Amaranta! _I_ was the one who found her! I saw her dead and you can't tell me she wasn't real!

"And Ugetsu…he's real. He has to be real." Hayato's back bowed, chest heaving with exertion. His heart was pounding, a dull throbbing that hurt far more than it should. He was trembling. "He _has_ to be. Otherwise…"

Hayato's eyes widened as he felt Yamamoto's arms encircle him. His forehead rested on Hayato's shoulder.

"Shh, Gokudera. I'm sorry. It's okay. It'll be okay." It wasn't until Yamamoto spoke that he understood his shaking was the result of violent sobs.

This couldn't be happening. Shouldn't. He shouldn't remember a life that wasn't his. These memories weren't supposed to feel like his. They weren't supposed to seem more his, more real, more important than his life.

He didn't know how they made it to Yamamoto's house. They passed by Yamamoto's father who started when he saw Hayato's state. He didn't hear the excuse Yamamoto gave his father. He just stood listlessly by, Yamamoto's hand still around his elbow. When the other proceeded up the stairs, Hayato followed.

Like a doll, he allowed Yamamoto to undress and dry him. He only reacted when Yamamoto handed him some dry clothes to change into. Yamamoto's father knocked on the door a short while later with a tray laden with food. He squeezed Hayato's shoulder lightly and left without a word.

"What'd you tell him?"

"Hmm?" Yamamoto paused in the act of ordering sheets for a makeshift bed on the floor.

Hayato nodded at the door. "Your dad. What did you tell him?"

"Oh." Yamamoto fluffed a pillow. "I said you'd received some bad news about your family in Italy."

Hayato smiled humorlessly. "You didn't tell him that family has been dead for two hundred years?"

"Details." He shrugged. "You can take the bed. And you should eat something."

"I'm not hungry," Hayato replied immediately.

"Eat or I will stuff it down your throat," Yamamoto replied cheerfully.

"As if you could," Hayato responded and he could almost pretend this was normal.

∞

Beside him, Yamamoto's breathing was even. Hayato stared at the ceiling.

If he tried to remember his childhood, he saw the castle where he grew up. He saw the child Bianchi. But he also saw a manor and he knew that if he ran for a little less than an hour across the fields and gentle hills behind it he would reach Giotto's home. If he thought about his adolescence, he remembered getting the tattoo across his face. He remembered meeting the Tenth for the first time. If he considered his adulthood, he knew he was the right-hand man for someone whose greatness was immeasurable, someone who he'd seen grow up and who he was still waiting to see adopt the title that was his.

 _(Does anything make sense anymore?)_

He was cold. He pushed the sheets off him and clambered off the bed. Ugetsu didn't wake up when Hayato crawled under the sheets with him. Yamamoto only breathed a gentle sigh. Ugetsu's arm closed around Hayato's waist, pulling them closer. He heard Yamamoto breathe his name before he settled into a deeper sleep. Hayato inhaled in his rival's, his lover's scent and tried to calm down.

 _(This is going to hurt.)_

∞

"Are you sure about this, Gokudera?" asked Reborn.

"Yes." Hayato nodded.

"Have you told anyone?"

"No, Reborn-san."

"Okay. Then let's call in Yamamoto."

"Um, wait, Reborn-san!" Hayato stepped toward the infant. "C-could you do it? We don't need Yamamoto."

"All right," Reborn said easily. Hayato started. He'd expected Reborn to question him, at least.

The Arcobaleno pulled his gun free and handed it to Hayato. "Shoot yourself."

"What?" Hayato stepped back. The gun had a comforting weight, more familiar than his dynamite.

"If it's not Yamamoto then the result would be the same whether I shoot you or you do. So go ahead. Kill yourself."

"Reborn-san, I—" The gun was incredibly familiar. Almost too much. He couldn't raise it to his temple again.

"Hmm." Reborn snatched the gun from Hayato's hand. He walked out of the room. Hayato caught up with him in the kitchen. Tsuna and Yamamoto sat at the kitchen table. Tsuna was complaining to Reborn while Yamamoto fiddled with something.

"Wow, kid, this looks real." The gun looked incongruous in Yamamoto's hands.

"Yamamoto." Reborn stood on the table near Yamamoto's elbow. "Shoot Gokudera."

"Is this a water gun?" the boy asked.

"Reborn!" Tsuna exclaimed. "What are you trying to do?"

"Baseball freak, don't you dare." Hayato moved back.

"Gokudera?" Yamamoto blinked.

Reborn pulled out another gun. "Yamamoto, shoot Gokudera or I shoot you."

"Reborn!" Tsuna stood up so fast he upset his chair.

"Shoot Gokudera?" Yamamoto glanced from the gun in his hands to Hayato.

"Tell him to do so, Gokudera," warned Reborn. "There will be no warning shots."

Hayato watched Reborn raise the gun, saw the calculating, cold look that didn't belong on such a childish face, saw a child's hand cock the weapon, imagined the bullet waiting quietly in its barrel, just a small metal tube, a tiny piece of metal, such a little thing aimed at Ugetsu…

Time rushed past. When he surfaced from the roar, he was on the ground and the kitchen table was in pieces and he held G-Archery and Reborn was saying something and Tsuna was yelling and Hayato tried to stand and Yamamoto was staring at him and Yamamoto looked afraid and Yamamoto pulled the trigger.

∞

 _(You know these hands…)_

Ugetsu was too warm. Hayato tried to push him away, but Ugetsu only curled around him further. He breathed a gentle sigh. Hayato groaned.

"Five more minutes," Ugetsu muttered sleepily. Hayato rolled his eyes.

"I can't breathe."

"Mm-hmm. I'll do it in the morning."

"No, you…oh, forget it."

He flopped in a boneless heap back to his original position. Ugetsu nearly climbed on top of him in his attempts to get closer. Feeling a small smile somewhere around his neck, Hayato knew Ugetsu was awake. Which was why he wasn't surprised when a large hand, callused from years of wielding a sword, traced the dips and bends of his torso. He remained still, allowing Ugetsu to do as he liked. Hands ran up his sides, fingers tickling as if playing a shamisen instead of skin. A line of kisses began just under his chin and trailed down his chest and abdomen. When he closed his eyes, the sensations grew sharper. An open mouth panted against his hipbone. A tongue pressed damp points against the junction of his leg and groin.

"Gian…"

Hayato couldn't bite back a gasp.

Ugetsu smiled innocently. "I like to hear you."

Hayato arched an eyebrow. "Oh, do you?" He reversed their positions abruptly. Ugetsu's eyes widened in surprise. Hayato leaned over him. "When do you prefer to hear me? When I ride you? Or when I fuck you?"

"Either. Both." Ugetsu's eyes had darkened. A teasing smile lingered about his lips. When Hayato closed the distance between them, the man moaned into the kiss.

All teasing and signs of gentleness faded. It might have been a fight. A finely controlled violence guided their motions, a need for a delicious kind of pain. He clung to Ugetsu in an attempt to defend against the tempest threatening to swallow him. When he came, it was with a suddenness that left him breathless. Ugetsu bit Hayato's shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. When he relaxed, his tongue dipped over the mark left in the flushed skin as if to soothe.

Outside the window, the indigo sky lightened. Almost reluctantly, Hayato stood and searched for his discarded clothes. Ugetsu tugged him back.

"Stay," he asked.

"Can't. We're leaving soon."

"But you can stay here."

"Can't," Hayato replied shortly. He heard Ugetsu sigh. "I'm sorry, but you know why."

Ugetsu smiled. "Yeah. I'll see you at breakfast."

Hayato kissed him because it was all he could leave with him. He closed the door on Ugetsu's soft sigh.

 _(Or whispering, with white lips—"The foe! they come! they come!")_

They were surrounded within moments. The dying sun behind them shot red tendrils through the sky.

"Don Giovanni," Giotto greeted the leader politely. "I was hoping a fight could be avoided."

"Obviously not," Giovanni Kronos responded casually. "Otherwise you wouldn't have reneged on our deal."

"You know I had to." From his tone, Giotto could have been speaking about the weather. "I could not risk my family."

"What of my family, Giotto?" Giovanni's voice was calm. "What of my wife, stabbed through the child she was carrying? What of my brothers? _They_ could be risked?"

Giotto closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were distant as the stars.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Don Giovanni," he said.

"So is everyone."

"Step aside." Hayato moved forward so he half-shielded Giotto. Two women stepped toward him, wearing white cloaks. Both had pink hair and strange dark masks.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible, Guardian of Storm," one of them said. "This conflict won't be resolved without a fight. We will judge fairly to determine the winner."

"Judge?" Hayato spat.

"Yes," the woman replied.

"My family will not bow to the Vongola," stated Giovanni.

 _(Arm! arm! it is—it is—the cannon's opening roar!)_

Only the faintest splotches of light marked the west. Barely enough light to see the scarlet stains on the road.

Hayato fought to get closer to Giotto. Fairly, like hell. It had degenerated into a damn free-for-all with the women standing back.

Ugetsu and his opponent were a blur. The silver blade swung with a clear whistle through the air, silver as cold as ice. Vito channeled another bolt of lightning through his crown, stopping a would-be attacker. Enrique was yelling something about God's punishment. Alaude and Santiago were almost silent, Santiago taunting Alaude as he drew another victim into his accursed illusions. Alaude promised Santiago death.

In his distraction, Hayato didn't fend off an attack fast enough. He struck ground, his wrist absorbing and cracking under the force of the fall.

"G!" The childhood nickname was clearly audible over the din. Giotto's head turned toward him.

"Gian Carlo!" Dark eyes widened. Ugetsu's sword swung down. The cold barrel of a gun rose.

Giovanni aimed a gun at Giotto's turned back.

 _"Gian Carlo?" The boy paused long enough to glance back at Giotto's mother. The woman smiled. "Keep an eye on my son, will you?"_

The Storm Arrow roared upon Giovanni. Giotto seized the second of reprieve to concentrate his energy to his right glove. An explosion of orange flames swallowed Giovanni.

Hayato whirled around, his crossbow cocked and aiming at the Kronos man.

There was a staccato sound of a gunshot and a scream of scarlet flames.

The Kronos guard landed a short distance away. Ugetsu swayed, red dissolving the white of his shirt from the black circle on his chest.

"Gian Carlo…?" His voice broke. He fell to his knees.

"Ugetsu!" Hayato grabbed him before he could fall over. "Enrique! Enrique, damn you, get over here! Just hold on." Hayato was panicking. "Five more minutes. Stay awake for five more minutes."

Ugetsu smiled. His body seemed to breathe a long sigh before it relaxed. His open eyes were unfocused. His skin was too cool.

 _(Those hands fall away…)_

∞

"NO!" Hayato reared up. He scrambled back and hit the kitchen wall.

"Gokudera!"

"Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna was immediately at his side, face drawn. Yamamoto was right behind him. "What happened?"

"What did you see, Gokudera?" Reborn hopped onto Tsuna's shoulder.

"Let him catch his breath, Reborn!" Tsuna defended.

"No." Reborn observed Gokudera. "Before he forgets the details."

Hayato tried to control his breathing, tried to swallow the scream scrabbling at his throat. "He died."

"Who died, Gokudera?" asked Yamamoto.

"You did. You died." Hayato bent down until his forehead touched the floor. The position offered little relief. "And I…"

∞

 _(couldn't do anything)_

∞

If circumstances had been different, Hayato would have been shocked at Bianchi's anger when she learned what had happened. He might have been amused. His sister screaming at Reborn was a sight to see. As it was, he couldn't even dredge up enough energy to care.

Yamamoto had been horrified. He hadn't stopped apologizing. His eyes had been dark and, when Hayato blinked, the stupidest hat was on his head. Hayato had punched him.

Tsuna hadn't left his side. His actions had alternated between trying to yell at Reborn and trying to help Hayato calm down. When Hayato stood to go back to his apartment, Tsuna had stopped him.

"No" was all he had said.

He had spent the night in the Sawada household under supervision. Tsuna had given him his bed and turned a deaf ear at Hayato's protests. Later, when Hayato had still been watching the shadows on the ceiling, he heard Tsuna's hesitant whisper.

"Gokudera-kun? What…w-what happened to them? To Giotto and…and Gian Carlo?"

A memory had surfaced. _"I need to return his ashes. He should go home. Will you come with me?" To Japan? …Even if I know the way, I will never reach Japan._

Hayato hadn't answered him, but Tsuna had seemed to know anyway.

"I'm sorry," he'd said. Hayato hadn't been sure what he was apologizing for.

The next morning he'd been forced to deal with Ryohei. Somehow he'd found out about what had happened and had dropped by for "extreme moral support".

Hayato had debated the pros and cons of taking him out. He figured another Sun Guardian would be easy enough to find.

Still not even Ryohei was quite as irritating as Yamamoto.

"Is Gokudera avoiding me?"

Sitting on the rooftop, Hayato nearly burned himself with his cigarette. Something tightened around his heart. He looked up to see a solemn Yamamoto standing in front of him and immediately glanced away. He glared at the floor.

"The hell do you want?"

"Gokudera." If Yamamoto had been a girl, Hayato wouldn't have been surprised if he began tapping his foot. "Are you avoiding me?"

"Your idiocy's contagious. I'd rather not be contaminated."

"Gokudera!"

"What do you want?!" Hayato stood up so quickly he was lightheaded.

"Nothing! I'm just worried about Gokudera. You're my friend."

Friend. _Friend_. This _moron_ …

"You. Are not. My friend." Hayato wasn't sure if it was the words or the tone or combination of both, but Yamamoto stepped back. A flicker of hurt cut across his face. A bubble of sadistic glee spread across Hayato's chest that didn't quite mask the furious pounding of his heart.

"Gokudera…"

"I don't like you. I barely even tolerate you. But you're useful to the Tenth so you're part of the Family. We're coworkers. Not _friends_."

Yamamoto's eyes had widened.

"Is that really so difficult to get through your thick Japanese head?" Hayato spat. "You're just an idiot with the boss's blessing. No one asked you to make the fucking trip here! No one asked you to come! But you arrived waving around four swords like some obnoxious clown and calling yourself the heir to some obscure style that no one has heard of and no one cares about! We would have been fine without you!"

Hayato panted from the force of his rant. Yamamoto's look was unreadable. He tilted his head to the side.

"Gian Carlo-san," he said carefully, "I want to talk to Gokudera."

There was a pregnant pause.

" _I am Gokudera_!"

Yamamoto shook his head. "Earlier, it wasn't Gokudera talking."

"You mean to tell me that you think that some two hundred-year-old dead man is sharing my body?" Hayato laughed. The sound was far from pretty. "You are so _stupid_."

The first signs of anger registered on Yamamoto's face. "I know when Gokudera isn't Gokudera."

"Do you?" Hayato whispered. Fury lined the question like a silver blade. "So when I do this, is it me or is it Gian Carlo?"

He threw his weight at Yamamoto, slamming him against the wall. Yamamoto flinched when his head struck the concrete. Before he could recover, Hayato grabbed him by his short hair and tugged down hard enough that he felt some strands give way. His mouth, when it clamped over Yamamoto's, was no less rough. An irrational need to make this maddening imbecile _hurt_ seized him. His teeth bit down on Yamamoto's lower lip. The skin was dry and chapped just like his and Hayato briefly tasted a bead of iron. Flinty green watched surprised amber in a silent challenge. When Yamamoto's hands closed around his arms, Hayato shoved himself away.

Both panted for breath. Yamamoto stared at him, wide-eyed. His hand rose to his mouth. It paused at the corner of his lips.

Hayato recovered the few scraps of dignity that remained and pulled them close.

"Don't come near me," he ordered. "Don't come near me."

He ran all the way to his apartment. Inside his bathroom, he clutched the edges of the sink and tried to swallow the bile climbing his esophagus. His eyes were clenched shut, head bowed. His head wasn't hurting him, but his chest was too tight, much too tight. When he dared raise his head, he started at his reflection.

His face was thinner and an ashen color that was far from healthy. His hair was dull, almost lifeless. In stark contrast, his eyes were a bright, feverish green. When he blinked, a dark flame slashed across his right eye and cheek.

His fist slammed through the mirror.

"Fuck!" he yelled. The pain was like a jolt radiating up his arm. He clutched his bleeding hand to his chest. Fumbling with the roll of toilet paper, he tried to mop up the blood. There were some pieces of glass incrusted in his knuckles. He'd need to pick them out with pincers.

He finally collapsed against the edge of the tub, the blood from his hurt hand staining his shirt and pants, his other hand clutching his hair.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." His chest spasmed with tearless sobs. He stared at the white ceiling and reigned in the urge to break something, anything, anything that could alleviate the pressure coiling and coiling and building inside him.

He wasn't insane. He'd felt it. Just before he snapped at Yamamoto to leave him alone, the reason why he had jumped back…he'd felt Yamamoto return the kiss.

∞

 _(What are you so afraid of? You wanted this, didn't you? Or can't you even admit that to yourself?)_

∞

Fingers half-curled into his palm, Hayato sat in the middle of his bed. He'd downed four tablets of aspirin and his hand was still throbbing. He was tempted to swallow the rest of them. He dropped the bottle into the space between the headboard of the bed and the wall. The temptation otherwise was too great.

He'd kissed Yamamoto. What kind of half-assed move was that? And _Yamamoto_ of all people. He hated Yamamoto.

But that wasn't entirely true. The idiot was annoying as fuck. He was a moron. It wasn't normal to be so _happy_ all the time. But Hayato could remember the panic that gripped him when Gamma almost killed him. And the bone-deep relief when Tsuna later told him Yamamoto was all right.

Hayato loathed him for it, for these conflicting emotions Yamamoto inspired before all this mess even began.

He gripped his hair with his untouched hand. "Stop it. Stop."

Because he couldn't get the memory of Ugetsu out of his mind either. Lately, he'd begun to buy into the memories. Begun to believe they were his. He was jealous to death of Gian Carlo. For an absolutely stupid reason. Rationally, he knew there was no way he could feel anything toward Ugetsu. They never met. Ugetsu was dead. But he'd played host to the remnants of Gian Carlo for so long, it was almost impossible for him to pinpoint where he ended and the first Guardian of Storm began.

Like Yamamoto and Ugetsu. In his mind, they were intertwined so tightly it was like he could no longer separate them. But unlike with Gian Carlo and him, there was a breadth between the two Rain Guardians. For the sake of his crumbling sanity, he latched on to that slender thread separating them. There was something Yamamoto was that Ugetsu never attained.

 _Yamamoto_ was Hayato's baseball idiot.

And that small truth was enough to slow his breakdown even if there was nothing that could stop it anymore.

∞

 _(Things are speeding up.)_

There was another attack. Hayato was buying groceries with the money left over after paying the rent. He didn't learn about it until he bumped into Chrome outside the supermarket.

"Ah, Gokudera-san!" Chrome clutched her trident to her chest. "Are-are you going to see the boss?"

"What about the Tenth?" Hayato moved to brush past her.

"Boss was targeted again."

 _(Where were you?)_

"What?!" Hayato whirled, grabbing Chrome by the shoulders. She squeaked in surprise. "What do you mean he was targeted? Where is he?"

"Boss was with Yamamoto-san and Sasagawa-san. They were investigating something and someone attacked."

"Is he okay? Where is he?!" He shook her.

 _(Didn't you swear to protect him?)_

"The boss is fine! I left him at his house!" Chrome stumbled when Hayato abruptly let her go. _(You're the right-hand man. Why weren't you there?)_ He ran to Tsuna's house. By the time he reached the front door, he was panting and clutching a stitch in his side.

"Tenth!"

"Octopus head!" Ryohei paused on the threshold to the kitchen. "You look awful to the extreme! Didn't your arm already heal?"

Hayato glared and shoved his bandaged fist behind him.

"Gokudera?" Yamamoto poked his head through the doorway. The reactions were immediate. Yamamoto flushed red up to his ears. Hayato choked and spluttered. Ryohei blinked.

"Did something extremely happen?"

"Gokudera-kun?" Tsuna stepped out between Ryohei and Yamamoto. A dark half-coin stain peeked out of his hairline.

"Tenth!" Hayato ignored the others. "Are you all right?"

Tsuna made a noise of assent. "It's nothing, Gokudera-kun. We're fine."

"You should have told me, Tenth! I can help!"

"No, you can't." Reborn hopped to Yamamoto's shoulder.

 _(It's what you fear.)_

"Reborn-san…" Hayato started. Something cold trickled down his spine.

"You haven't improved. You've been getting worse. If you suffer a fit during an enemy attack, you may endanger the others. Until this is resolved, you are relieved of your duties as a Guardian."

His chest felt too tight. He was cold. _(You aren't really surprised. You've been expecting this on some level, haven't you? The proof.)_

Distantly, he heard Tsuna try to defend him. Ryohei was loudly declaring that he was "lost to the extreme!" Yamamoto was watching him with a look Hayato had never seen before, on him or on Ugetsu.

"I'm sorry, Tenth," he apologized, head bowed. "I understand."

"Wait, Gokudera-kun—"

 _(You slam the door on his words. You don't want to hear. You don't deserve them. How does it taste? Failure?)_

∞

A series of timid knocks were at his door. Hayato finally dredged up enough energy to clamber to his feet and open it.

Chrome startled. "Go-Gokudera-san. Um…this-this is yours." She held out the bag of groceries he'd dropped. He hadn't even remembered it. "I went to Boss' house, but he said you'd left. Yamamoto-san brought me here."

"Yamamoto?" Hayato's hand tightened on the door.

"He was behind…me." Chrome looked over her shoulder. "I think he stayed downstairs."

"What were you doing?"

"Huh?"

"Earlier. When the Tenth was attacked." Hayato crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What were you doing?"

"Ken and Chikusa, they ran out of their snacks." She shuffled her feet in discomfort at being questioned. "I offered to get it. I was coming back when I ran into the boss."

"You didn't do anything?"

She correctly interpreted his tone. "I wouldn't hurt the boss! He's-he's Boss."

Hayato grit his teeth. Mukuro was a suspicious, slippery bastard, but Chrome was too earnest. If she _was_ lying, she had a better mask than Mukuro.

An awkward silence enveloped them.

"…Can I have my things?"

"Oh, s-sorry!" She jumped and almost shoved the plastic bag at Hayato. Face red, she shuffled in place as if deciding which way to turn to leave. "…Is that a book of Lord Byron's poetry?"

Glancing behind him, Hayato saw his schoolbooks lying unceremoniously on the floor. On top was the slender book he'd borrowed from Meioh-sensei to finish his English project.

"You know British poets?" he asked her. Chrome shook her head.

"Mukuro-sama does. He-he admires Lord Byron. He fought for Italy, didn't he? In a rebellion?"

"Yeah.…"

 _"My family will not bow to the Vongola."_

George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron, born January 22, 1788, died April 19, 1824.

"Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on your Rain Guardian? Or…"

"A shipment expected the nineteenth. The twenty-second is otherwise unmarked."

"Is he an acceptable sacrifice?"

"Gokudera, perhaps you might be so kind as to recite the next verse?"

May this right hand be withered forever, ere it string our high harp for the foe.

"No fucking way." Hayato gasped.

"I'm, I'm sorry?" Chrome blinked.

He forced a smile. "Nothing! Just something I forgot to do. I have to go."

Slamming the door behind him, he ran past her.

"Wait, Gokudera-san!"

He ignored her cry. She stayed behind, but Hayato soon heard footsteps behind him. He stopped.

"If you're going to be this loud, you might as well walk with me."

Yamamoto scratched the back of his neck. "Ha, ha. Gokudera knew I was following?"

"Obviously," Hayato groused.

"Where are we going?" Yamamoto kept up Hayato's pace easily.

"The school."

"Why?"

"There's something I want to check."

Yamamoto fell silent. Hayato found himself thanking every god he knew for that small miracle.

"Um, Gokudera, I've been thinking. You know. About…about what happened on the roof."

Hayato swore violently.

"Gokudera?"

"Now really isn't the time."

"Then when _is_ a good time?"

 _Never_ was on the tip of Hayato's tongue. He bit it back with a scowl.

"If you're going to be a pain in the ass, you can just go back."

"Gokudera!" Hayato cried out in surprise when a hand wrapped around his forearm and jerked him back. Yamamoto was unsmiling.

"I'm serious," he said. "If now's not a good time, when?"

They were in front of the school building. There was an edge of sun peeking behind it. The massive star hung just above the horizon.

"Why are you pushing this?" Hayato's voice was carefully neutral. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yamamoto startle. "Why can't you just forget it?"

"Be-because…" Yamamoto frowned in confusion.

"Why is this so important to you?"

"…I don't know."

Hayato tried to pull free, but Yamamoto's grip tightened.

"Gokudera, how much…who's…"

"Just how dominant is Gian Carlo?" Hayato translated.

Yamamoto didn't say anything, but he raised his gaze to Hayato's.

"When I wake up in the morning, I don't open my eyes. I try to guess where I am. Sicily. Or here. I always guess wrong."

"Gokudera…"

"It'll be easier if we just…forget what happened on the roof. I don't know why I did it. I can't answer your questions. Not right now. Everything I know about me feels wrong. Everything about us…feels worse." It was as a close to an apology and a beg for mercy as he could get.

Yamamoto's grip loosened. "Okay," he said. "I'm sorry, Gokudera. I'm sorry I can't help."

Hayato stared at his feet.

"We should probably hurry up. Hibari-san won't like it if he catches us near the school after hours." Yamamoto smiled. Hayato might have bought it, but he could read the subtle nuances in Yamamoto's expression now. He saw the tightening of the laugh lines around the other boy's eyes that had little to do with humor.

"Yeah. Follow me. And be quiet."

"Okay!"

They snuck down the halls to the faculty room. Inside was a long table with several chairs surrounding it. There was a computer on a desk. Behind it was a row of file cabinets. Hayato headed for those.

"Why are we in here?" Yamamoto looked around the room as if expecting something to leap out from the shadows and bite him.

"There's something I want to check." Hayato began rifling through the drawers.

"About a teacher?"

"Yes." Hayato found a copy of their grade's English curriculum. There was no mention of the Romantic Movement or Byron. In another cabinet, he found the folder on their English teacher. There was an assortment of documents inside: a résumé, teaching certificates, letters of recommendation. Her files pointed to a concentration on Shakespeare's works, the subject they were supposed to be covering. No Byron.

He summarized his discovery for Yamamoto who stared blankly.

"So she changed the curriculum. What does that prove?"

"Nothing." Nothing by itself. Shuffling through the papers, he found a letter addressed to the principal. It explained that she would be unable to attend the first day of classes as her mother was recovering from an illness. It expressed her deepest apologies.

The signature varied ever so subtly from the one on the other papers.

"Turn on that computer," he ordered. After Yamamoto did so, he sat down in front of it. He quickly bypassed the mediocre school security and was surfing the Internet.

It was a long shot, but…

"She lied."

"Who lied about what?" Yamamoto peered over his shoulder.

"Our teacher, you idiot. Look at the letter. She said she was taking care of her mother. But by that time, her mother had been dead for over a year."

"How does Gokudera know?" Yamamoto's eyes had widened at the information.

In answer, Hayato aimed the screen toward him. On the screen was the obituary he'd managed to find.

Yamamoto shook his head as Hayato logged off. "But why would Meioh-sensei lie?"

 _Because she's a conniving bitch out to hurt the Tenth._ Hayato was interrupted before he could voice his opinion however.

"What are you doing here after hours?"

Meioh-sensei leaned against the doorway.

A slow itch suffused Hayato's palms. His right hand lingered near his waist, as if feeling for a gun.

"Oh, Meioh-sensei!" Yamamoto greeted her brightly. "What are you doing here this late?"

"I'm a teacher," she answered with a smile. "But I'm curious about you. I thought students couldn't wait to get out of school. Or maybe that was just me."

"Gokudera left a paper here," Yamamoto lied.

"You couldn't get it tomorrow?" she asked Hayato.

"It was important," Hayato forced through gritted teeth. "But we'll be going now, sensei."

She stood aside to allow them to leave. Yamamoto shot her his usual smile and Hayato trained his gaze on a distant point.

"Are you going to warn your boss about me, Gokudera?"

Hayato and Yamamoto froze.

"I did wonder when you would figure it out." The teacher sat in one of the chairs. "You're easily the most intelligent of the group. Yet you can be so… _slow_."

"You're not really Meioh-sensei," Hayato stated flatly. He turned around, hands fisted at his sides. His right hand was throbbing as if a tiny heart had been slipped under the broken skin of his knuckles.

The fake shook her head. "No. Your teacher is indisposed, unfortunately. If you'd prefer, you can call me Gioconda."

"You—!"

Something burned him under his heart. Hayato blinked in shock at the gun Gioconda pointed at him. The barrel was lined with blue flames. He could feel the tranquilizing effect of the blue Rain Flames slithering through his body. Everything was too heavy. He fell.

"Gokudera!"

"Don't move. The bullet I shot him with is a special one. It won't kill him. This next one, though, _will_." Yamamoto straightened slowly at her words. His smile was gone.

Gioconda waved the gun in the direction of the door. "Only one is needed to deliver a message. I'll keep Gokudera with me. Yamamoto, if you would be so kind, you can warn Sawada. Tell him to be here in an hour's time or he will be down one Guardian."

"Baseball idiot…" Hayato struggled against the Rain-induced lethargy. "Don't you dare endanger the Te—agh!"

A heel pressed against his neck. "You speak when spoken to, Gokudera," Gioconda chastised him. "Now, Yamamoto, run along."

Just before he sank into the unrelenting darkness, Hayato caught sight of Yamamoto.

His eyes were dark.

∞

His head was fuzzy. It felt like it had been packed full of cotton. The sounds of an argument reached him. He slit his eyes open, trying to grow accustomed to the artificial lighting. He finally brought into focus three women.

"You are trying to restore your family's honor," a Cervello was saying. "We will judge the fight in an impartial manner."

"And I keep telling you, you are unnecessary."

"It wouldn't be fair," the other Cervello argued.

Gioconda laughed softly. Hayato flinched at the gunshot. The Cervello fell into her partner's arms, a hole in the middle of her mask. "Do I look like I give a damn about being fair?"

Something akin to surprise flickered over the other Cervello's face.

"You've done your job," Gioconda continued. "You are no longer useful." There was a warning in her tone.

"You're…killing off your underlings now?" Hayato glared.

"Oh, you're awake." Gioconda knelt in front of him. "How are you feeling?"

"You bitch."

"Yes, I am. What? Surprised I admit to it?" She laughed at his expression. "When you set out to get revenge, it's a good idea to know yourself. Your reasons for seeking it. And that you understand exactly what destroying someone entails. I did my homework, Storm Guardian."

"If you so much as _touch_ the Tenth…"

"This might come across as the height of hypocrisy, but take my word for it. Revenge is an ugly road. Try to avoid it."

"…You are seriously batshit." His hands twitched. There was a feeling like ants climbing all over his body. It was uncomfortable, but he welcomed it. He could still feel licks of Rain Flames assailing him. The sooner he regained control of his limbs, the sooner he could feed this bitch to Uri. The thought made him glance down at his hand. Uri's ring was gone. Instead there was a blue band encircling his index finger.

"Looking for your kitten?" Gioconda held up the ring. She dangled it in front of him. "I can't use Storm Flames, but a friend can. I figure he might appreciate the cat as a token of thanks."

Gokudera snorted. "You're in for a world of hurt if you think you can control Uri. The moment you let it out will be the end of you."

"Is that right?" Gioconda cocked her head to the side. "You're an idiot."

Of all the things he expected to hear out of her mouth, that wasn't one of them.

"I tell you I'm going to hand your box weapon to my companion—who, by the way, is the one responsible for your broken wrist—and you actually let me know what will happen when he opens it. You should have seized the chance and begun, I don't know, begging for me not to take it away or throw a tantrum that it's yours. That way, I would have passed it off immediately for the sake of enjoying the look on your face and you would have got the last laugh. Didn't think that one through very well, did you, sweetheart?"

She ruffled his hair.

He was going to _massacre_ her.

"Oh, do calm down. You're better off conscious. Otherwise, who will warn Tsunayoshi about the trap?"

"What trap?" A trap? Had she planted something inside the gym?

Gioconda laughed. "Did you believe this," she motioned the gym with her hand, "wasn't a trap with you as the bait?"

"What the fuck are you planning?!"

"Now let's not blow the surprise. You'll see soon enough."

Eyes flashing, Hayato promised, "I am going to kill you."

"You'll try," Gioconda corrected him kindly.

There was a bang outside the doors. Voices filtered through.

"Arm! Arm!" she recited softly. "It is—it is—the cannon's opening roar." Gioconda stepped away from Hayato. As she did so, he felt a hand on his.

Chrome held a finger to her lips. "I'm hiding us in an illusion," she whispered. "Boss is outside. I'll get you out."

She quickly slit the blue ring on Hayato's finger and the lingering sensations of lethargy vanished so quickly he was lightheaded. He stumbled to his feet, swaying. Chrome gripped his elbow in support.

Something slammed into his stomach. Hayato doubled over with a choked cry. A second blow and Chrome fell beside him.

Gioconda twirled a bat in lazy circles. "I haven't dismissed you yet."

"H-how…?" Hayato clutched his abdomen, glaring at her.

"You're not the only one capable of using multiple flames. I was originally a Mist Flame user, although I favor Rain now. But if you were asking about the bat, this _is_ a gym." She tossed the bat aside. "I'll let your boss know he can come in now."

The air seemed to fold away from her. She disappeared.

"No! Agh." Hayato struggled to stand. "We have to warn the Tenth!"

Chrome clutched her head and whimpered. She nodded. He helped her to her feet, but the doors opened and Tsuna and the others ran inside.

"Gokudera-kun! Chrome!" Relief was evident in Tsuna's voice. He ran toward them.

"No, Tenth! Get out! It's a trap!"

The doors slammed shut. Sapphire flames bathed their surface. Hayato thought he caught sight of wriggling bodies inside the flames. Animal box weapons. Which animal he couldn't tell.

Gioconda reappeared in the middle of the gym.

"Good evening, Tsunayoshi."

"Me-Meioh-sensei!" His hands, covered by white mittens, were tensed at his sides.

"She's not Meioh-sensei," Hayato yelled. "She killed the real one."

"I did not," Gioconda defended herself.

"You said you killed her!"

"I said she was she was indisposed."

"It's the same thing!"

"Hardly."

"You're both too loud." Hibari dove at Gioconda, tonfa extended. The weapon went through her.

"She's an illusionist!" warned Chrome. "That isn't her!"

"Chrome, where is she?" asked Reborn.

Chrome hugged her trident to her. She closed her eye.

"Gokudera-san, behind you!"

He barely ducked in time. He felt the air whip across the space where his head had been. There was an explosion of orange light. Tsuna floated a short distance away, one hand extended. Gioconda had barely shielded herself in time. She clutched her left arm, badly hurt from the Sky Flames. Uri's ring and a gun had fallen on the ground. Hayato grabbed both. He unleashed Uri and combined the cat with his Flame Arrow. Gioconda vanished before he could shoot her. She materialized at the end of the gym, in front of the back doors.

"Stand down. This will go much easier if you all stay still."

"I won't let you hurt my friends," Tsuna snapped.

"You won't let me?" Gioconda laughed. "You think to stop me, child? You shouldn't be so rash. One of the two might die."

"One of the two?" Tsuna repeated slowly.

"Pretty girls, both of them. But you know, it's not polite to lead one on while you have your eye on another. How do you think the girl from Midori Private School will feel when you confess to your Sun Guardian's sister? If you ever do."

"Haru?" Tsuna gasped.

"Kyoko? What about Kyoko?!" Ryohei would have rushed Gioconda if not for Yamamoto restraining him. "Let go of me! Where is Kyoko?!"

"She's in her home," Gioconda replied easily. "As Miura is in hers. The question is how much longer they will be there."

"What do you mean?" asked Reborn.

"Well, obviously, I planted bombs in both of their houses. Bombs from the shipment that was supposed to arrive on the twenty-second. You didn't honestly think I would be so stupid as to leave the correct information involving the shipment's contents and date lying in a computer?" Gioconda smiled at their shocked faces.

"You-you can't!" Chrome exclaimed. "They're not involved! You wouldn't actually…?"

Gioconda bowed her head sympathetically. "I already did. Fourteen seconds ago to be precise. And only by pressing the detonator again will the bombs stop." She raised a small black box, a red button in its center. Above it was a countdown. There were less than ten seconds left.

Tsuna disappeared. When Hayato blinked he was behind Gioconda and had knocked the detonator out of her hand. He punched her away. She landed heavily a few meters away. Tsuna pressed the button.

He was swallowed in the explosion.

" _Tenth!_ "

"Tsuna!"

"Sawada!"

"Boss!"

Hayato was the first to reach Tsuna's side. His right arm was black, the glove heavily damaged. His hair was burnt, as were his clothes. The skin that wasn't bleeding from numerous cuts and burns looked about to blister.

"Tenth! Tenth!" Hayato reached out to touch him, but a wall of Rain Flames stopped him. "What?"

"Who are you?" Hibari asked.

Hayato looked up. Six people stopped a short distance from where Hibari, Reborn and Lambo stood. And inside the ring of blue flames, the air seemed to fold away, revealing Gioconda.

"Wha—" One of the men stooped to help up the Gioconda lying on the floor. Hayato recognized him. He was the red-haired man who had broken his arm. As the first Gioconda stood, her features shimmered and finally shifted to that of a dark-skinned woman. All signs of Tsuna's punch faded.

"I'm Gioconda," said the real one standing behind Tsuna. "That is my double. She mimics me so well it's almost scary, isn't it?" Her clear gaze ran over them and finally settled on Tsuna. He was struggling to a sitting position, one eye closed. His breathing was shallow. "I do apologize for the deception, but it was necessary. Otherwise your intuition would have warned you of what only I knew; the detonator _was_ the bomb."

"The-then Kyoko…and Haru…"

"Were never in any danger," she said kindly. "Like—Chrome, is it?—said they're not involved. It'd be cowardly to risk their lives just to trap you."

"But you said—" Tsuna flinched. His head bowed in pain.

Gioconda raised his chin slowly with her finger. "Have you never heard of a bluff?"

"Get away from him!" Any time Hayato tried to get closer, licks of Rain Flames lashed out at him. He tried shooting them with his Flame Arrow, but the soothing blue doused the furious red.

"Don't waste your energy, Storm Guardian." Gioconda kneeled beside Tsuna.

"He hasn't done anything to you!"

"No, he hasn't," she acknowledged. "But he is the heir to the family that has. The Vongola are a crime family. Did you believe that because your boss is kind-hearted and naïve, the consequences of the family crimes wouldn't touch you? I know what I'm doing. I told you already; I did my homework."

"Please…" Tsuna raised his head. "I'm-I'm sorry. For whatever the Vongola did. But please. Please let my friends go."

"I would. But they will chase after me, won't they? Look at them." Gioconda waved a hand in their direction. "The moment I kill you, they will swear revenge. And they won't stop until they die or I do. It's better to finish this business tonight."

She drew a gun from her jacket.

"Tsuna!" Yamamoto drew out his sword. The blade was alight with Rain Flames. He dove into the flickering shield, jumping out of a roll inside, sword still out. The red-haired man who'd broken Hayato's arm ran after him and stopped his swing with a pair of bladed metal knuckles. The others immediately moved to intercept the rest of the Guardians.

Hayato panicked. "Tenth! Yamamoto!"

"Why are you doing this?" Tsuna asked desperately.

Gioconda aimed. "Ask Giotto Vongola."

Yamamoto swung downward. The red-haired man pulled out a gun.

 _"Keep an eye on my son, will you?"_

(You hesitate.)

He and Giotto trailed after Bianchi. Shamal opened the door and they ran outside where Enrique and Ryohei were arguing. Vito's crown had fallen again and Chrome found it and set it on his head. Haru, Kyoko and Amaranta played a game and Alaude was threatening Tsuna. Santiago laughed at Hibari's demeanor and Giotto's mother hugged Lambo. Ugetsu closed his eyes and Yamamoto opened them.

 _(You hesitate._

I don't.

I throw myself into your blood, fold against the muscle fibers that propel you, sink through the red and pink and white heaving tissues that form you. Your legs become my legs. Your arm is my arm. I blink with your eyes and it's your lungs that allow me to taste the scorching air.

This is a battle two hundred years long. This is a battle I refuse to lose. My inheritor becomes my avatar. And with this body that is mine and not mine, I dive into the blue wall. I raise a crossbow whose scars I know better than my own and intercept a bullet.

Giotto's boy flinches, but the scarlet flames pass by him and alight the woman aiming at him. The gun in your right hand comes up to angle at the other and he shoots and I shoot and I see the scarlet spray through your eyes as I feel the scarlet burn in your chest and abdomen.

We fall, you and I, the weapons slipping from our hands. We played our hand. We chose.

Your head strikes ground with a dull thud. Lights bloom and spread and fade and a dark corona circles your vision. We gasp for a breath we cannot retain and we flinch away from a pain that cannot be escaped.

It's over. It's a victory.

It ends with a fall.)

∞

 **Epilogue.**  
The baseball made a clear, sharp sound as it struck the bat. It whistled through the air, flying far into the outfield. His swing was improving. Takeshi didn't need anyone to tell him. He could feel it deep inside his bones with every strike of the ball, with every vibration across the metal of the bat. With how much time he was spending on the baseball field, it wasn't surprising.

Shielding his eyes against the sun, he scanned the horizon. He could see a figure moving about on the school rooftop. It bowed its head and disappeared behind the wall where Takeshi knew the door was located. That was his sign. Time to go home.

He showered quickly and changed even faster. He was locking up when he heard the sound of steps. Tsuna was lugging his book bag behind him as if he couldn't handle the weight anymore. Takeshi could sympathize.

"Yo, Tsuna!" he greeted.

Tsuna's smile was tired, but it reached his eyes. "Hey, Yamamoto. Done?"

"Yup!" Takeshi dropped the keys into his bag. "I'll give these to the coach tomorrow."

"I need a vacation," Tsuna moaned. He trooped to a wall and slid down its length. He lay on the floor like a broken puppet. "No school. No crazy Vongola schemes. And absolutely no Reborn."

"The kid's not so bad." Takeshi smiled.

"To you." Tsuna grabbed his bag and hid his face under it. "I swear, one of these days Reborn is going to kill me. Probably the next time I don't wake up fast enough and he uses the New and Improved Vongola alarm clock."

"Does it sound really loud—?"

"Tenth!"

Both boys turned at the sound of the yell. Gokudera ran up to Tsuna, a wide grin splitting his face. "There you are! I've been looking for you."

"Ah, sorry, Gokudera-kun." Tsuna sat up and scratched the back of his neck. "I had to escape the class."

"If the teacher's being too tough on you, Tenth, just let me know. I'll take care of it."

"No, no, no, that's okay, Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna waved his hands. "It's okay. That's not necessary."

"Ready to go?" Gokudera held out a hand. Tsuna took it and the silver-haired boy quickly helped Tsuna to his feet.

"Hey, Gokudera!" Takeshi's smile was reflexive. "How have you been?"

Gokudera flinched. He never glanced at Takeshi.

It no longer hurt as much as it had. After the fight, when he'd rushed to Gokudera's side, he'd been so terrified he was almost physically ill. There had been so much blood on Gokudera and his skin had been cool to the touch. Ryohei barely acted in time to save him. Tsuna and Hibari had finished off the rest of their opponents.

The Cervello had disappeared. Gioconda had escaped. Badly wounded by G-Archery, she had still been able to hold her own against Hibari and Chrome long enough to use a Mist box weapon to run away. Reborn had contacted the Vongola family in Italy. He'd promised she would be found. Throughout it all, Takeshi had not let go of Gokudera's hand. Hours later, when the bomber finally opened his eyes, Takeshi had been leaning over him, waiting for the "baseball idiot" that was sure to come out of his mouth. Gokudera's green eyes had been frighteningly blank.

"Who are you?" he'd said.

Who are you.

"Shall we walk home together then?" Tsuna swung his bag idly. Takeshi shook his head.

"You go on ahead," he said. "I forgot the bases outside. I've got to bring them in."

"We'll help," Tsuna volunteered. "Right, Gokudera-kun?"

"Anything to help the Tenth." Gokudera beamed at Tsuna, but his smile was strained. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag until the knuckles shone white.

"Ha, ha, no, that's okay." Takeshi smiled. "Really. I'm fine. You guys go on."

"You sure?" Tsuna frowned slightly.

"Yep!"

Still unsure, Tsuna finally nodded. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Yamamoto."

"Bye, Tsuna! Bye, Gokudera!"

Tsuna waved. Gokudera never turned around.

Takeshi sank against the wall like Tsuna had done. He covered his face with his hand. "Shit."

Amnesia, Shamal had said. Unsurprising, he'd said. But Gokudera hadn't forgotten his life. He remembered who he was. He remembered Tsuna. He remembered the rest. But he'd forgotten the fight. And he'd forgotten Takeshi. At first, Takeshi had assumed it was some strange joke. Something to bother him. But when Tsuna asked Gokudera outright if he knew who Takeshi was and Takeshi saw Gokudera's look of absolute bewilderment and more than a little fear, he knew it wasn't a joke. Gokudera didn't remember him. It was as if he had never existed in Gokudera's life.

"There's nothing physically wrong with him," Shamal had said. "Sasagawa did a good job of patching him up."

"Then why can't Gokudera-kun remember Yamamoto?" Tsuna had asked. Takeshi had been sitting in a chair, head in his hands. Gokudera had been sleeping in another room, Bianchi hovering near him.

"Stress," Reborn had said flatly. "These past few months haven't been easy on Gokudera. Having to contend with a different set of memories and thoughts, becoming confused as to his own identity, almost dying. We ought to count ourselves lucky his personality didn't dissociate entirely."

Lucky wasn't the word Takeshi would have chosen. There was nothing lucky about how Gokudera had been those first few hours. Like a doll. As if he wasn't really there. He hadn't remembered anyone or anything then and he hadn't cared.

While having a Gokudera who didn't remember him was preferable to not having Gokudera at all, he wanted the old one. He wanted the one who got mad at him and threatened him with fireworks and didn't want to work together. He wanted the one who thought Takeshi nothing but a "baseball idiot" and liked to remind him of that fact. He wanted the coarse and crude and blunt boy who'd gripped him by the hair and kissed him until Takeshi couldn't remember his own name.

But they were lucky, very lucky. They still had a Gokudera.

Takeshi retied his shoelaces and threw his bag over his shoulder. He walked to the school doors. He wanted to get home. At the corner, he noticed a familiar silver head walking down another street. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to follow Gokudera. Takeshi remembered what had happened the only time he confronted the other boy. It had been two weeks after the fight and Reborn had decided Gokudera should resume his normal routine and return to school. Takeshi had cornered him in the hall and asked him about the battle for the Rain ring, about the fight against Gamma, about all the times they'd worked together. Gokudera had drawn away, eyes wide and almost wild.

"Shut up, just shut up!" he'd roared. "Get away from me!"

Takeshi had never seen Shamal so angry.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" Shamal had clutched him by the lapels of his shirt. "You probably just sent him back to square one! I despise treating males and you're making him worse. If I catch you harassing him again, graduating will be the least of your worries!"

Takeshi hadn't pushed Gokudera again.

Gokudera walked into the playground. He dropped his bag on the grass and leaned against the frame of the swings. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Why are you following me?" he snapped.

Takeshi started. "Gokudera knew?"

"Of course, I knew!" Gokudera glared at him. "You lack any kind of subtlety."

"Gokudera's always so blunt." Takeshi chuckled.

"I knew you," said Gokudera suddenly.

Surprised by the statement, Takeshi nodded.

"You were important."

"Gokudera—"

"Yes or no, Yamamoto," Gokudera snapped.

Takeshi was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "Yes."

"But I don't remember you."

Takeshi remained silent.

"Who the hell were you?" Gokudera exploded. "There are times I feel I should know you. The Tenth and Reborn-san have said you're the Guardian of Rain. But they've never said anything about us. I know I fell and I hit my head, but why did I only forget you? I know this. I know I do. But why do I feel like I don't want to remember?"

"Gokudera, I can't…" Takeshi trailed off, shaking his head.

"Why were you so important?" Gokudera asked and there was an almost raw edge to his voice.

Takeshi stepped forward until he was standing immediately in front of Gokudera. He was so close he could feel the other boy tense at their proximity and tense further when Takeshi lifted a hand to brush an errant strand of hair away from Gokudera's face. He saw Gokudera raise a fist and hold it against his chest, ready to lash out. It was his right fist. There was a spider web thin network of scars crossing the surface. Scars like a flame. They'd lightened, but they'd never really fade.

"You tell me," Takeshi said. "You never told me what I was to you before."

Gokudera swallowed audibly, but didn't move away.

"What was I?" Takeshi whispered. "Tell me, Gokudera. Please." He could see himself reflected in Gokudera's too vivid green eyes.

Gokudera was silent.

Takeshi smiled and his throat burned. "I'm sorry. I must be making Gokudera uncomfortable. I'll see you tomorrow at school, yeah?"

He was almost at the entrance of the playground when he heard Gokudera speak.

"Baseball idiot…"

Takeshi froze. He could feel his pulse in his wrists and temples. His heart was hammering a scarlet tattoo against his ribs. Slowly, he turned around. "What did you say?"

Confusion lined Gokudera's face. Doubt. There was still a sense of not knowing reflected in his eyes. But his voice was clear as it said, "You're a baseball idiot."

"Yeah." Takeshi laughed. "I'm Gokudera's baseball idiot."

His smile was natural this time and the corners of Gokudera's lips twitched upward.

  



End file.
